Relearning the Basics
by Viraaja
Summary: Gerald has a bit of relearning to do, after gaining back his mortality. Set right after the Book Series - AU ending.


**Relearning the Basics**

Damien Vryce stood silent in the cool darkness of the Forest's shade. Above him, silhouetted against the gray cloudless sky, rose the black steeples of the Hunter's Keep. They drew his gaze upwards, their impressive dominance a distraction from the Church camp that reeled around him- but they could do nothing to help block out their triumphant cheers. All Damien could do was stare at those steeples and focus his mind inward to where he barely balanced on the precipice of despair, unable to deal with the site right before him.

Unable to look where Gerald's head sat blackening in the hot flames of the camp fire. Unable to acknowledge the mans fate anymore than he absolutely had to.

How had it come to this? After he had thought that their last battle was won, just when he believed that there was hope for the Hunter's future, a chance God had offered to him, how had all of this happened? Had Gerald's life really only been preserved to satisfy Andrys Tarrant's desire for revenge? That was not the work of the God Damien loved- no God of his gave into prayers of bloodlust, that was something all too akin to Calesta's sphere of influence… But, there was no denying that which he had just born witness to. Even the Forest seemed quieter, it's malevolence replaced with a much more somber timbre of loneliness- of emptiness.

Gerald Tarrant, the Hunter, the Prophet, the living legend who tortured thousands but saved the lives of millions was _dead_. And all Damien could do to keep from letting his despair overcome his composure was hope that perhaps in obtaining his humanity Gerald had also obtained his right to enter heaven- that his God had been merciful by giving him at least this one _last chance_…

"Mer Vryce?"

Damien nearly didn't notice the man who approached him. The din clank of metal plates blended in with the rush of sound that was the camp, but the sound of his voice cut through the white noise like a knife. Tearing his eyes from his heavenward focus, Damien saw the very last person he wanted to speak to standing mere feet away. Golden armor gleamed in the sunlight while a dusty black traveling cloak was clutched limply in his hand- _Andrys Tarrant._

Words failed him. What words were there for the man who had only fulfilled the task which Damien had so long ago set himself with? The hatred which filled his chest could have just as easily been the same triumphant joy displayed by the Church soldiers- and that knowledge was all that kept him from decking the man as he approached. Looking at him was painful, though. So like Gerald in features and build, and in that armor- that mocking facade of the Prophet who Andrys Tarrant was _nothing like,_ it made Damien sick to his stomach.

Weariness hid behind Andrys' noble mask. The satisfaction Damien assumed the man felt was buried beneath emotions that spoke more of the toll this whole endeavor had taken on him than the accomplishment that should have brought the closure he'd been seeking. Serves him right, to realize that revenge leaves nothing but an empty hole where anger once burned- if only his lesson hadn't been learned at Gerald's expense. "What do you want," Damien's voice sounded tired to his own ears, the anguish which he felt unable to manifest through his physical exhaustion.

Andrys studied him for a moment. His eyes, so like and unlike Gerald's, met Damien's before he raised his arm- the black traveling cloak hanging between them, "I left him in the dungeons."

Damien regarded the swing of the cloak, watching as it's folds twisted in the gentle breeze, and let the other man's words sink in. Andrys was offering him something that Damien didn't realize the other man had the capacity for. Perhaps it was the loss of his own loved ones that gave them at least this much understanding. The opportunity to at least bury the Hunter's body was about all that was left for Damien- and so it was with a solemn nod that he accepted the cloak and headed towards the dark rise of the Hunter's Keep.

By the light of his lantern Damien descended into the darkness of the Keep's dungeons. The rank stench of death and decay that permeated the place seemed all that much stronger now that Damien knew a body awaited him. The walls that were wet with moisture would hide whatever mess that may have been made in the decapitation of his friend, just as the dark fabric of the cloak he clutched would hide whatever blood was left to leak out of his body. Damien couldn't imagine that the camp would welcome the man who was concerned about respecting the Hunter's dead body- and the last thing he wanted was to enflame that mob's wrath…

The sound of his footsteps echoed off the expansive walls of the dungeon, intermingling with the drip drop of water that leaked down into the subterranean network of tunnels. Damien didn't have the slightest idea of where he was going, but something drew his feet forward, as if some leftover bit of the fae that once connected him and the Hunter together was somehow guiding him to where the other's body lay: down a long familiar corridor, past empty cells and into the dark cavernous room where the tunnel leading to Mount Shaitan met the Keep. It was then that Damien realized he had reached the end of the dungeons, and nowhere had he seen the Hunter's body.

A clinking of metal against stone and the soft whisper of what sounded like his name brought Damien around in a low defensive crouch. _Could this be a trap? Does the church view me as a threat now too? _Damien's eyes scanned the darkness around him, hoping the pounding of his heart wasn't loud enough to be audible. It was impossible to pick out could be hidden soldiers from the shadows of the room- but he still searched for any sign of another's presence. Another clink of metal brought Damien's attention to the manacled torture table he had noticed upon his first visit to this room. Something was laid out on it's stained bloodied surface, something very much like a body, and that revelation sobered up Damien's mind faster than any working ever could. There was no trap- simply the overreaction of a man who was both emotionally and physically drained.

Damien stepped towards the table, preparing himself for the horrific sight of the Hunter's headless corpse as best as he could. Throughout his life he had been witness to atrocities that would put decapitation to shame, but in this context, and after all that he had been through and all he had hoped for…Damien wasn't quite sure how he would react to the actual reality of seeing the Hunter in such a way. As he drew closer, the shadow upon the table shifted. Damien sucked in a sharp breath and brought his lantern up, spilling it's light upon the table. As it's golden glow fell upon the shadowed mass, it revealed not a body lying unmoving upon the structure but a figure struggling to get down from it.

_"Gerald?"_

Damien could only gape at a very much undead, and quiet possibly _alive_ Gerald Tarrant.

After Andrys Tarrant had left him lying helpless in the dungeons, a large part of Gerald was convinced he was going to die. His faith in his descendant's mercy was somewhat lacking thanks to extenuating circumstances and their history- and while his better half had said he would find Damien to send after him, Gerald really wouldn't have blamed Andrys if he hadn't. After all, there was a time not so long ago that _he_ would have had no problem leaving a man to die for no reason whatsoever, let alone _revenge. _One could almost say that if Andrys had any sense at all he very well _should_ have- he wasn't the only one who wanted the Hunter dead, there were too many people with too good of reasons to argue the benefit of his eradication from Erna. Of course, very few had the capacity to see what _good_ his life have brought them, but it seemed to be human nature that blinded people from anything but their own immediate circumstance.

When Gerald heard heavy footsteps echoing down from the hall, he had been nearly unconscious. Fatigue and blood loss had wiped out the last threads of strength that had brought him so far. The fuel derived from his determination to salvage whatever documents on the Iezu he had collected sputtered out once he discovered the wreckage that was his library. It was only Damien who had kept him going, forcing him to at least _try_ and find something- _anything_. But by that point Gerald had already given up, so when Andrys had arrived demanding for his life- well, Gerald really hadn't cared at that point. For the first time, he was just so tired, so fed up, and so defeated that he just felt numb. Death, the thing he had spent so long fleeing from, was finally staring him in the face and he just couldn't bring himself to fight anymore. Once again, it was only Damien that kept him going. Seeing the man's furiously helpless expression as he retreated from that room, the bond between them still fresh enough that Gerald knew he was searching for any possible way to save him, made the Hunter come to a realization: that Damien Vryce, the man who the entire human race owed their lives to, would be in pain because of his death, and if there was one person on Erna who didn't deserve anymore pain it was probably Damien Vryce.

He knew that it was Damien whose shadowed figure just entered the small chamber. Feint yellow lamp light lit the other man from below- casting his features in stark shadow against a weathered face. His beard had started to fill in, a scruffy darkness that was so unlike Gerald's own aristocratic features that he had always somewhat envied the utter masculinity of it, because Damien was nothing if not the archetype for a man. As a 900 year old scholar Gerald could more than appreciate that quality. Even so, the bond that still existed between had grown feint after everything had _changed_ but Gerald had spent too long of his life attuned to the fae to miss it's presence. Now that he had Damien in his sights the bond tingled with newfound vigor, renewed if only by their physical presence rather than by the fae currents.

"Damien-" Gerald's voice came out as a rasp, his breath too shallow to give the word any strength.

Still, his voice must have carried far enough for the shadow dropped to a crouch- looking around wildly for the source of the sound before noticing the table. _Damien_… his voice was spent but Gerald tried to use the remaining bond to communicate with the Priest - _Damien…_ The figure inched towards him, caution shortening the man's steps while his body betrayed his uncertainty. Why would Damien be anxious? What new danger had presented itself that even now Damien's wits were so on guard? Gerald pushed himself onto his side, trying to face the Priest but only succeeding in enhancing his sense of vertigo. The end of the table was just before him and his weakened body teetered wildly at the edge. Gerald fumbled with his own long limbs, doing his best to balance on his side but feeling utterly unlike himself, so unused to the new sensations of this _human_ body. Muscles seized as Gerald failed to steady himself, and then suddenly lamplight flooded his vision-

_"Gerald?"_

The sound of his name on Damien Vryce's lips was the only thing that kept Gerald conscious as he tumbled off the table and towards the cold wet stone floor. Instinct stepped up to fill in the gaps of his tired mind and Gerald just managed to raise his arms to his head as he dropped- but before he hit the ground there was a harsh clang of metal against stone and suddenly the golden lamplight was gone. The darkness was all consuming, blinding Gerald but doing nothing to hide the feel of strong arms catching him. Desperation drove Gerald to grasp at the limbs, but it was a growing sense of shock that filled he as he was man handled into Damien Vryce's…_embrace? _Breath caught in his throat as he was pulled against a solid barrel of a chest, his face pressing into the soft fabric of Damien's shirt collar as those same arms that caught him wrapped around his shoulders and waist and locked him in place. Once again, instinct reared it's head, and Gerald could do nothing as his body froze up in reaction to the touch- expecting fire, and finding nothing but a soft radiating _warmth_. Realization broke over his consciousness like a bucket of cold water. _I'm human_- Gerald thought, once again reminded so clearly of the fact, but for the first time not by some form of weakness- rather, by the simple evidence of being able to _touch_ another person without that painful white _fire._

Gerald sank into Damien's embrace.

Damien was going to kill him.

Thank god Gerald Tarrant was still alive because now Damien could kill him for yet again tricking him into another of his _stupid suicidal plans_-

"You _vulking bastard-" _

Damien growled into Gerald's ear, the gruff words laced with an affection he hadn't intended, but Damien was just so enormously _relieved_ and-_ and- _thoughts failed as he felt Gerald relax in his arms, and Damien took the opportunity to shift them closer and bury his face in long tangled tawny hair. He was _hugging_ Gerald- how many times had he thought about this all while knowing that as the Hunter it had been impossible? Moist breath puffed over his collarbone, and Damien couldn't help but marvel at the sensation. It was so simple and yet so basically _human_. Had Gerald even breathed before? Had he ever had to? Had Damien ever really contemplated all the small subtle differences that now seemed so distinct? The body in his arms, though obviously weakened, throbbed with an energy that was a combination of all the tiny details of Gerald's transformation. From his breath to the pulse Damien felt fluttering under his fingertips as his hand moved up to cradle the back of Gerald's neck. And most notably of all: the utter absence of that biting icy cold touch, something that had defined the Hunter so very clearly in Damien's mind now was replaced with a gentle ebbing warmth.

Tiny flags were being thrown up in the back of his mind, a weak attempt to bring his attention to something important, but Damien was too content holding the other man to focus on anything else. That it should be _bizarre_ to be wrapped up in touching Gerald Tarrant didn't really occur to him. If there was one thing he had learned after traveling so far with the Hunter, it was that the rules never applied to a man like him. And the whole situation was just so unreal, so _unlikely_ that Damien was going to savor it for as long as it lasted- which may not be all that long if Gerald had anything to say about it. Whatever Damien was feeling at that moment probably didn't compare to what Gerald was going through- after all, he was the one who had gone nine hundred years without being touched.

As the case were, Damien turned out to be wrong about that too. An arm was slipping around his waist, Gerald's arm, in a loose mimic of his own- his grip hesitant, cautious, just a slight firm pressure testing out the waters. Damien held his breath as Gerald slowly pulled himself even closer, his eyes widening as the whispered words of "I'm sorry…" broke the tenacious silence. _Vulking hell-_ the Hunter, apologizing? If he didn't know better Damien would have thought the world was still ending.

Instead, Damien turned his face into Gerald's neck and breathed in deeply, smelling the tang of dirt and sweat and- _blood? _The scent was feint, but now that Damien had picked up on it he knew it to be an obvious indication of injury, and when paired with Gerald's utter lack of strength, and the way his eye lids were drooping over unfocused gray eyes…Damien's throat immediately dropped into his stomach. He was so happy to see the man _alive_ he hadn't thought of the possibility of some sort of serious injury.

With a curse Damien was forced to use one of his hands to dig around his pockets for his matches- finally locating them and the fallen lantern and once again the dungeon was bathed in a glowing golden light. It really was the simple things that made the absence of the fae all the more apparent. Gerald's coldfire could have lit that wick just as easily as a simple Working- instead they were reduced to doing things the good old normal way. What sort of life would an adept lead when that which had utterly defined their purpose was suddenly taken away- would the absence be just as difficult to deal with as it's very prescence? As Damien gently detangled he and the Hunter he couldn't help but think that it was possible that such an absence could kill a man. Ciani's depression was very clear in his mind, when she lost her ability to use the fae it had killed her spirit in a way Damien hadn't before realized was possible- she never was quite the same.

If the same thing happened to Gerald…

Damien's trembling hands betrayed his anxiety, even as they methodically searched Gerald's body for injuries. Fearing that a head wound would be un-healable without his use of the fae, he apprehensively checked Gerald's skull. Holding his breath as he lightly ran his fingers through the thick mane of blonde hair, his fingertips applying steady even pressure in search of any swells or lacerations. A sharp gasp filled Gerald's chest, scaring Damien into thinking he'd found the wound, but then the man's head dropped back into Damien's hands and gray eyes slitted open to regard him with a clarity Damien wouldn't associate with pain. Damien swallowed, staring, aware of a line of heat traveling through his body along with the fleeting sensation of their bond flaring to life. Damien had thought the connection between them would have been broken with the changing of the fae, instead it was only manifesting in new and different ways. He couldn't see the fae as he had before, but he could somehow sense the currents inside the other man, as well as those flowing _between_ them, _connecting_ them. The immediacy of the sensation was intense, and with the discovery came an almost absolute understanding of it. Closing his eyes Damien traced over the currents, his hands barely ghosting over Gerald's skin as he followed the lines of energy flowing inside the Hunter. it was like having another sense, one he hadn't exercised before but which was driven by instinct. All the energy was flowing to a single point, where it culminated before spilling out wasted into the open air. Damien's eyes flew open, staring down to where his hands hovered over Gerald's left forearm, finding a long gash marring the pale skin, still oozing semi-congealed blood.

"Gerald- what did you _do?_" Damien grabbed a hold of the man's elbow and pulled the appendage towards the light, eyeing the wound. The long gash stretched lengthwise along the forearm, nearly up into the tender flesh of the inner elbow. It didn't appear to be as deep as Damien had first feared, but Gerald has lost a _lot_ of blood. And combined with his fatigue he was probably on the verge of collapse. Damien's stomach flipped, thinking about Gerald's newly mended heart, wondering how far it could be pushed so soon after being healed. "Do you know how lucky you are to still be alive?"

A rasping chuckle rolled out of Gerald, that stupid ironic smile turning the corners of his mouth driving Damien insane, "I don't think luck had anything to do with it- I am very good at what I do."

"Just so-" Damien bent to rip a strip of fabric from the edge of Gerald's shirt- his somewhat more clean than Damien's own disgusting rags, "If _I _hadn't come down here, you wouldn't have fared nearly as well."

Gerald's gaze was a heavy weight on him as he set to binding the man's wound. "And for that I am unimaginably thankful…" the words were precise and poignant, but Gerald's voice was soft, filled with something Damien didn't have a word for.

When he looked up and met those exhausted, weary, smiling pale eyes, Damien found it very difficult to look away.

Gerald stumbled along the corridor, leaning into Damien's solid weight. Even now, after so many days of walking and then trekking across Mount Shaitan, the Priest was there beside him, unrelenting in his ability to keep going. How he was able to push a human body so far was a mystery to Gerald, and part of him balked at accepting the man's help as it made his own shortcomings so _obvious_… Gerald had been forced to get over his pride quickly enough. Standing had nearly wiped out all of his remaining energy, walking without aid was absolutely out of the question- walking _at all_ seemed just as likely to push him too far. But Damien hadn't given him more than a moment to breath before he was throwing a black cloak over his shoulders and hauling him through the dungeons.

"Where-" he gasped, "are you going-" Gerald balked as they came to the steps stretching up to the heart of his Keep, eyeing them with distaste and wondering what inspired him to make_ so many_ of them.

"Faraday. But we can't go back through the pass- we're out of supplies and you need someplace to rest," Damien studied the steps in front of him, a frown turning his lips. "You're not going to make it up those."

"Well, I suppose we'll find out," Gerald's body shook as he took a step forward. But before he could attempt to ascend the staircase there was a hand on his good arm and suddenly the floor was the ceiling and he was being _hauled _up and over- a short scuffle later Gerald was draped over the Priest's shoulders- being _carried_ up the god damned steps. "Damien- _VRYCE-_"

"Shush, be still," Damien hoisted him further up onto his shoulder's, hunching over just a little bit for better balance. Gerald lay helpless, hanging off Damien like a fancy vulking shawl, his mouth agog and his face flushed with emotion. A fireman's carry, it was called. Some old term from Earth days referencing a man who would put out fires and save lives of the weak and innocent- a fitting profession for someone such as Mer Vryce, if he thought about it. Regardless- Gerald had no desire to be dragged around like an invalid but after the first five minutes of ascent he realized the priest had been right- he most certainly would not have made it. The hike up the stairs was slow, but the steady paced bounce of Damien's shoulders was lulling Gerald into a foggy peace. Rest was something his body craved, and even now it sought it. By the time they actually did reach the top of the staircase Gerald would have been perfectly happy to let the Priest to carry him all the way to The Eastern Continent if he wanted.

At the last step they paused. Damien was huffing heavily, eyes trained on the heavy slab of wood that separated them from the Keep. The door. A big sold oak door Gerald had also felt was absolutely necessary to install all those hundreds of years earlier. There was no way for Damien to free his hands without putting Gerald down- and the passage was so narrow as to make that nearly impossible. He couldn't very well push against it with enough force what with Gerald on his shoulder's either. But then an _idea_ struck him. "If you brace us, I can push it open with my legs."

"Just don't strain anything," Damien joked as he twisted, his feet stacked on the top two steps, his shoulders dipping Gerald forward towards the door- when wood brushed the soles of his boots Gerald planted his feet and _pushed_- the door steadily yawning outwards, revealing the overcast shadows of the Keep. As soon as there was enough space for a body Gerald felt himself turned upright and then pushed out and around the door into the crevice where the Keep wall met the heavy wood- so quickly Gerald hadn't even realized his feet had hit the ground. Air left his lungs in a soft _whoosh_ as his back hit stone, and Gerald suddenly found himself unable to get a good breath. The sensation of being backed against the wall was doing something to him- something that tasted like panic but was was slower to bloom. And with Damien bearing over him, no longer touching but close enough for Gerald to feel waves of body heat coming off his skin… Gerald shivered, pressing himself back into the wall. Damien had an arm braced alongside his head, blocking his view of the hallway and leaving him with nowhere to go nothing to look at except the other man's dark eyes. Gerald pulled in a throaty gasp.

Noticing Gerald's discomfort, the priest lifted an eyebrow at him '_You OK?' _written all over his expression as he touched a finger to his lips, proceeding to check up and down the hallway for any Church soldiers. Somehow Damien had caught on that it was best they were not seen- and it would be no good going through all of this trouble to save his life if he were identified by a simple soldier. Gerald closed his eyes and forced himself to get a hold of his body. Focusing on flushing his thoughts from his mind with the air of his lungs, gradually feeling the tightness twisted round his chest loosen with each breath until finally the fire in his nerves eased...

"It's clear, we're alone for now" Damien's voice was soft in the space between them, pulling Gerald out of his head and back to that wall. Dark eyes were trained on him, Damien's stare intense and focused. "Gerald, what is going _on?_" just as much commanding as it was questioning, Damien's tone demanded an answer, and Gerald swallowed as he felt the bond flare between them.

"I made a bargain with Andrys Tarrant," he began, playing over the earlier events in his head. "It seems I still had something he wanted, and Erna will still accept a sacrifice in exchange for altering the fae."

The solution in the end _had _been rather obvious. There was only one thing that Gerald's death wouldn't bring Andrys- the name his family had been trying to claim every generation since his own, but could only be bestowed through a Naming rather than through blood born right. "He is the Neocount of Merentha now- My name and title are gone, I can not even call myself a Tarrant any longer." Gerald's voice dropped with emotion, his pride still damaged at having been cornered into giving up the small piece of his family heritage he still possessed. With his new life as a human it seemed as if he were being cleansed of everything from his previous incarnation. No longer was he the Hunter, the Neocount of Merentha, or even the Prophet. Gerald was simply himself- a man who had memories of being something greater. "For all of this to work, It's imperative that the camp believes I am dead," Erna had asked him for his heritage as well as his blood, and Gerald had fulfilled his end of the bargain but everything still depended on the belief that the Hunter was gone. "I need to disappear. To go somewhere that people don't know me, who aren't haunted by the Hunter."

"You're still Gerald right?"

Damien's only question was _what_- what did that _matter-_ "Who else would I be?" Gerald felt his face screw up in response.

"No, I mean- your given name is still Gerald, right? You didn't go and sacrifice that up too?" His tone was half teasing, half apprehensive.

"Of course I'm still Gerald-" he couldn't help sounding incredulous, although there was something alluring about starting his new life entirely fresh, designing a character whose mythos he could step into, not the Hunter but something entirely _different_…

Damien's chuckle cut through the silence, his words deep and smooth with humor, "Thank god, because it would be vulking _impossible_ to learn to call you anything else- don't get any ideas."

Gerald felt a smile split his face as the sound of Damien's deep baritone laugh rumbled through him, deciding that if being called Gerald made Damien happy, then that was probably a good enough reason to simply stay Gerald. For now.

Traversing the Keep turned out to be easier than Damien expected. The black cloak Andrys had given him was deeply cowled, and Gerald hid in it's depths, shadowing Damien as they headed through the vast vaulted ceiling corridors of the Keep. Their destination was the kitchens. Though left unused, Gerald had reproduced his former home down to every detail, including those parts he would never have a need for. What were in use were the horse breeding stables, which could be reached via the kitchens. Damien had figured they'd be a lot better off with a horse if there were any left, and also the kitchens entrance would be receiving a lot less foot traffic- if any at all. Even so, it seemed that after the display with the burning head, which Gerald explained had actually been a simulacra, the entire camp's force was a lot less on edge. It made for easy sneaking through the Keep, sneaking that was really less sneaky and more a stumbling mass of man with his living breathing shadow attached to his hip. Damien could not understand how the Hunter was still on his feet, and his worry was only growing with each minute that passed.

Damien wasn't enough of a fool to believe that just because Gerald was still going that he wasn't driving himself to the brink of death. The man had lived so long at that edge that he probably wouldn't be able to recognize when he pushed his human body too far. That was the reason Damien hadn't once let go of the grip he had on the other man. Whether it was a hand at his elbow or an arm under his shoulder, Damien couldn't keep himself from touching Gerald. Part of him just wouldn't be at ease until they were safely out of harms way, but a deeper part of him was just happy to have Gerald close, afraid that if he let go the other man may just fade into thin air. Gerald had skimmed the surface of death too many times over the past few days for Damien's comfort.

Faded gray sunlight filled the clearing beyond the kitchen door, casting the dull green and black of the Forest into a muted facade of daytime. Even so, stepping out into the fresh air of the Forest was akin to having a weight lifted off Damien's chest. With their successful escape from the Keep Damien had a feeling that the rest of their journey would be a whole lot smoother, that was- as long as Gerald didn't decide to drop dead and nothing else happened to threaten the future of the human race. Gerald must have shared Damien's sentiments, because as soon as the Hunter's boots hit grass the man was collapsing- finally. Damien had been waiting for the moment. He knew the Hunter wouldn't last for ever- it was inevitable that his pride would have to loose to his new human body's needs. So when Gerald started to sway Damien was there to catch him.

Gerald was dead weight, his body a brick of flesh and fabric, his face relaxed in peaceful unconsciousness. No matter how tedious it would be to have to get an unconscious Gerald through the Forest, Damien didn't have the heart to blame the man. If there were no horse for them to ride he would just have to make a sling of some sort and either carry him or drag him to safety. So it was with a suppressed groan that Damien lifted Gerald into his arms and made his way towards the stables.

The first thing Damien saw was the horse. It was black and beautiful and _his_. The wiry tail swished at the air as it stamped with pent up energy, shifted in place so bright eyes could roll back to regard him. When it's gaze focused on the form in his arms, Damien confirmed that the horse was of Gerald's own stock. _Thank you, God, thank you- _But then he saw the person who stood beside the horse, their slight form unassuming when juxtaposed against the girth of the beast. His relief flooded out of him almost instantly, stopping Damien in his tracks as the figure stepped towards him. A fight right now would be the most impossible scenario for him to deal with. But he _needed_ that horse and he had no intention of allowing whoever that was to leave the pasture with the beast. Going over his options Damien cautiously lowered Gerald to the ground, his eyes never leaving the figure.

"Mer Vryce?" the lilting notes of his name carried easily on the wind and suddenly the lithe figure and the swaying cloak made complete sense to the Priest. it was a _woman_ who led the horse towards him and by her stature and ease she was most certainly _not _a soldier. "Damien Vryce?" his name reached him again and Damien stepped around Gerald's body, placing himself between the woman and the Hunter while his fingers hovered over the blade of the knife in his belt because- woman or not, Damien just wasn't taking any more chances.

"That's a fine horse you have there, Mes- I don't suppose you'd care to explain how you know my name?" Damien searched the face of the woman who approached him, trying his best to put a name to the features and failing miserably. She was dark and pale and _beautiful_- beauty that in the hands of the right woman could be a tool of immense power and influence, but instead radiated a kindness and warmth that put Damien at ease. Well, at least somewhat less _on edge_ would be a more fair way to describe it.

"I'm Narilka- a friend of the Hunter," the pale woman, _Narilka_, gazed at Gerald's figure, concern in her eyes and a tension in her step that told Damien she was fighting the urge to go de-hood the prone form of Gerald. "I pray that man is alright, Mer Vryce."

"Only unconscious," Damien's eyes didn't leave the woman for a moment, waiting expectantly for some sort of _explanation. _Gerald didn't have _friends_- no one besides he nor Karril were able to put up with the man, and if a woman _that beautiful _ever encountered the Hunter, the likelihood of her to be now standing there before him was almost certainly an impossibility. "I was under the impress the Hunter had not made too many friends."

Blue eyes met his and suddenly Damien felt a little guilty at the accusing tone in his voice, "I'm sure you're right, maybe acquaintance would be a more befitting term. I met him one night, years ago. He showed me things, the dark fae- it was beautiful" Narilka closed her eyes momentarily, breathing in deeply as some memory replayed in her mind, "-I believe his intention was to bring me here, but he changed his mind, and, well-" Narilka shrugged. "I then met Andrys Tarrant a few months ago and…" she trailed off, as if the end of the story was as obvious to Damien as it was to her. "Andrys had his reasons to hate the Hunter, but I was never convinced. What he showed me that night… no man of pure evil could be responsible for that. I knew there had to be more to his story than what little I knew."

"Did you…" Damien couldn't find the words, was _this woman_ the reason Andrys had spared Gerald's life? If what she implied were true, he was sure Narilka had a good amount of sway over Andrys' actions, and she was obviously enamored by the Hunter- "-should I be thanking you, Mes?"

The woman pressed her lips into a smile and shook her head, "Please, there's no need- the hearts of men are much too black and white for their own good, is all." Narilka did step forward then, pulling the horse around with a soft cluck of her tongue. "I packed him up up for you both with what I could gather. There's blankets and food and water and some fresh clothes," a pale hand gently stroked the beasts snout, her eyes leaving Damien's as she pulled a carrot out of her skirt pockets. "They plan on burning the Forest at high noon tomorrow. So it would probably be best if you were gone by then."

Damien accepted the reins with an abrupt nod, unable to find words and instead standing there like a big dope. "I don't know what to say, Mes, thank you."

"It was the right thing to do. But I should return to camp, before someone comes looking for me," Narilka backed up few steps, sweeping her skirts up into her hands and glancing over her shoulder before turning back to Damien again, "Ride safe, Mer Vryce." and with that she was gone, running across the pasture towards the edge of the woods close to the camp, her black hair curling behind her in the breeze.

"How is it, that even as a _known murderer_ he can still get beautiful women to fall in love with him," Damien said to the unconscious Gerald, watching Narilka's form disappear into the tree line. Even he didn't have that easy of a time with the opposite sex and he was, if Damien could say, quite the catch.

But now he had a horse. And that meant his life just got infinitely easier.

Getting Gerald into the saddle would have been hilarious for any onlookers- had there been any. Gerald, while slim, was still a tall man, and maneuvering him up into the saddle was no easy task. Laying the Hunter across the saddle like a sack of grain, his legs dangling off one side while his torso slid over the other, Damien stepped back and paused- thinking of his options. Getting caught in the Forest when it was burnt down was not a situation Damien wanted to find himself in, and if that meant riding through the night than so be it; but, realistically he and Gerald both needed rest and the only way to do that on a horse without one of them falling off and breaking their neck was to strap them into the saddle…

The beast could handle the weight, that wasn't even a question in Damien's mind, but the logistics of securing them to the saddle would be a feat to accomplish. Swinging up into the saddle behind Gerald- Damien slipped his feet into the stirrups and wrapped an arm around the other man's waist, hauling Gerald up and settling him in the saddle in front of him. The weight of the other man leaned back into him, and Damien was forced to retain the hold around Gerald's waist so he didn't slide off the horse while he wrapped the saddle straps around both of their legs- securing himself to the stirrups and Gerald to his legs. Once accomplished Damien drew both Gerald's and his belts out of the loops of their breeches and combined them into one oversized strap that he then wrapped around both of their waists, worn leather cracking as he secured them together. Now they could both get some sleep without fear of falling out of the saddle.

Once Damien had pulled the cloak's deep cowled hood over Gerald, he turned the horse southwest towards Mordreth. Trusting that the beast knew the Forest better than Damien did, he relaxed in the saddle, slipped his arms securely around Gerald's waist, and slept.

Gerald awoke to find himself in a most precarious situation: sitting strapped in a saddle between Damien Vryce's legs.

The night was dark. Domina was dipping towards the horizon and Corelight had long since set. True Night was approaching fast, and when most everyone on Erna would be shutting their doors and locking their shutters, they were instead stopped deep in the Forest, Damien struggling to free them from a horse they must have been riding for hours. Gerald had no memories beyond the long walk through the Keep's corridors. Somehow Damien had brought them this far all on his own. Gerald was nothing if not impressed, but going by the man's track record that was simply how Damien functioned, finding solutions even against the greatest of odds. That he could find his way through the Forest without Gerald's aid should not have surprised him at all.

What did surprise him, though, was the warm press of Damien's chest against his shoulder blades, and the labored breath that was tickling his temple and earlobe. He was hunched forward over the saddle, held to Damien by an arm wrapped tightly around his waist, trapped between man and horse. Damien was struggling with the straps that secured their legs to the saddle, forcing him to stretch down along Gerald, but even as fingers tugged at the restraints he only noticed the position he was in, the implications it suggested, and the general intimacy of the entire situation. And of course how his body was _reacting_ in ways that horrified the Hunter. Something was twisting alive inside Gerald, something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Realizing that he needed to get off this beast and away from Damien _fast_, Gerald turned his face towards where the man was pressed into his shoulder. When dark eyes snapped to gray Damien froze in the saddle, the fading light obscuring his features but Gerald could feel the heat of the man's gaze. The implications of their position had not escaped the other man's notice either, it seemed. The twist inside Gerald tightened, and he could feel it echo across the space connecting them.

"Sorry, it's kind of hard to see what I'm doing." Gerald swore Damien sounded _sheepish_ and a part of him couldn't hide the smirk that pulled at his mouth, enjoying the other man's moment of discomfort even while thoroughly humiliated by his own.

"Let me do it, then," Gerald kept his voice soft, afraid that the tightness twisting his throat and chest would cause his voice to betray him. Reaching down to the straps of leather that wrapped round both their calves, Gerald slipped long fingers into the knots and began working at them. While he was easily able to start pulling them apart, the position it placed him in was even worse. Leaning forward as he was caused his weight to push into the other man even more firmly at a point of contact much lower, and the places where their bodies touched seared with a fire that was so much different from the pain he was used to. It was distracting, having Damien behind him, and for a moment Gerald's mind stalled and his fingers paused while his body tried to direct his attention _elsewhere_. Gerald steeled himself to his task and pulled ferociously at the leather, relief flooding him when his leg finally came free.

_There, one down._

Switching to lean over the opposite side of the horse and begin on his other leg, Gerald held his breath. He moved quickly, focusing all of his thoughts on his task and making quick work of the restraints. But as the final knots came undone the horse chose that moment to side step in agitation, shaking it's head with a snort and throwing a glance back to the two of them as if to hurry them along, tired from having to carry two men on it's back for so long. The move nearly unseated Gerald, what with his weight so unevenly balanced and no stirrups to hold his feet. Quick as ever, though, Damien reacted- thick fingers curled into the fluid curve of bone and muscle that were his hips, preventing him from falling from the saddle but sending waves of fire through Gerald that caught his throat in a sharp gasp. The sensation of Damien's hands on him, in that place, in this position, it was far too much.

_"_Let me down,"Gerald's voice was _shaking. _There was no hiding the quiver that made his words sound breathless, but Damien obeyed instantly, his hands leaving Gerald's hips as the Hunter leaned up and swung his leg forward over the saddle and slid to the Forest floor. His legs trembled under his weight, weak with disuse and all the other pitfalls of a mortal body, and Gerald had to grip the side of the horse for a moment lest he collapse again. Forehead pressed to the saddle, Gerald squeezed his eyes shut and forced his body to calm. Dark fae swirled round his feet as if the Forest was reaching up to him as to lend him it's strength. Standing on the ancient ground of this place he had created and nurtured and grown for almost a thousand years grounded Gerald. And while the effect of Damien's touch threw his mind into a spiral, the Forest in turned soothed him, gave him back his composure. Gerald drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the familiar scent and energy of his Forest. Yes, here he was in control of everything, including his own god damned human body.

Pushing himself away from the horse, Gerald straightened and smoothed his hands down the front of his tunic and cloak. It was a habit, and it only reminded him about how _dirty_ and rumpled he was, but at least his body was now comfortably back under control. And without the touch of the priest enflaming him, Gerald's mind could now stop racing around the realization that for whatever reason, Damien was affecting him in ways he hadn't experienced in a very, very long time. Gerald didn't know if it was due in part to the bond, or the fact that he hadn't been able to touch another person in so long, or a combination of the two, but either way Damien was pulling things out of him that he had long since come to terms with never feeling ever again. In a way it was terrifying, as any other loss of control was to him, but another part of him felt something closer to thrill in his stomach, because it was _Damien_. Gerald had never considered it before, there was never an option for that in their relationship, but now that there was, well…

Turning round to face the priest, words on the tip of his tongue- Gerald was forced to take a step back as the man dropped down beside him. Damien was much more thickly built than Gerald. Even half starved and exhausted, Damien was as solid as a tree trunk, his shirt hanging off a broad expense of bone and muscles and rugged angles. In the fading light and the rising darkness, he was a sight to behold. Gerald found himself unable to look away as he watched the man fold forward in a a deep hamstring stretch, a groan pushing itself out of the priests chest. "It feel so good to be off that horse," his words were punctuated by the twist he gave his spine, before he lifted half way, settling his hands on his knees and his eyes on Gerald, "You feeling any better?" his tone was casual, but the concern the priest felt was obvious, of course Damien was thinking about _him_.

Gerald lifted his chin, eyeing Damien down his nose, "Good as new." Which was not even _close_ to the truth, but Gerald would be damned if he'd ever admit otherwise. By the way Damien was rolling his eyes, though, he doubted his words had convinced the priest anymore than they had himself.

"When we get to Faraday, I am going on the _longest_ vacation I can afford," Damien sighed as he stood up and arched, his arms thrown back over his shoulders in a long stretch, "don't worry, you're invited- actually, it's going to be mandatory attendance." Gerald watched in fascination as the setting light of Erna's smallest moon cast Damien in it's last rays, highlighting the grin on the man's face and the _gleam_ in his eye. _Oh god. _Gerald swallowed, shutting down the train of thought his mind was headed towards and turning his back to the other man. "There's food and water in that saddle bag," Damien was behind him now, sliding a hand over his shoulder in an easy friendly touch, his other arm lifting along side him to point at the horse. Gerald suppressed a shiver. "Eat and drink something and I'll set up camp," the words were low, close to his ear, so close the priest's lips had brushed the hair behind his ear.

Gerald didn't even hesitate to obey. Stepping hastily away from the man's hand, he turned towards the saddle bag, mind frantic. Had Damien noticed his staring? Had he felt the tremor that had traveled through his body? Had he caught on that it was his _touch_ that was doing these things to him? Gerald could only hope that the man were oblivious to all of it, but he knew the truth was probably far more grim. Damien was an observant man, and while Gerald prided himself on being able to always stay one step ahead of most everyone, the priest was the exception. What with their bond, and the connection it gave them, it was almost an impossibility for Damien to _not_ know. Gerald's stomach sank.

As it turned out, the priest was right about his state of dehydration. He hadn't even noticed his parched mouth and rumbling stomach. When was the last time they had ate? They'd run out of food on the way to the keep, and that had been early the previous morning. It'd been over a day since he and Damien had any source of sustenance- though Gerald assumed the priest had probably taken part of the supplies during their ride. Lifting the flap of the bag back, Gerald rifled through it's contents, not even bothering to remove the thing from the horse. There was a large canteen of water that was not quite full as well as a couple of clean shirts and a blanket. Gerald pulled out the canteen and twisted it's cap off, tipping his head back as he attempted to gulp down the liquid without choking himself. His throat was dry and the cool water was a soothing relief to his poor esophagus. It tasted almost sweet, like it had a hint of cucumber, or hibiscus, and Gerald chugged as much as he could, not realizing how thirsty he actually was until his body had been given a taste of what it was missing.

Placing the canteen back into the bag, he performed a more thorough search on the supplies. The shirt was fresh homespun cotton, simple and large and probably something more suited to Damien's tastes than his own, so Gerald shoved it aside and dug deeper. There was a pair of pants, some hard cheese wrapped in a cloth, a box of flint with a bit of tinder, and something that resembled a knife but Gerald soon realized was actually a shaving kit. Frowning, Gerald pushed the contents aside and stuck his arm all the way into the bag, fingering the bottom of the leather until his fingers closed round something hard and waxy. Gerald froze, hope seizing his chest in a clenching grip. _Is that- can it be? _He drew his arm out slowly, gripping the object in his hand so he wouldn't loose hold of it, holding his breath in anticipation…

A cake of soap. It was a _vulking cake of soap._

Gerald couldn't hold off the grin that split his face as he pressed his nose to the ball and breathed in the fresh scent of cleanliness. It all could be damned to hell, and food could vulking wait, because Gerald was going to take a _bath._

Damien grinned to himself as Gerald swept by. He had found the soap in the saddle bag earlier during their ride. He knew the Hunter's habits as well as his own, the man _hated_ being dirty, though it was amusing to watch him wallow in his own filth. Damien had purposely made Gerald dig through the bags so that he'd come across it because he'd known what it would do for the Hunter's mood. Ever since the dungeons he'd been acting a little bit _off_. A little bit uncomfortable where before the Hunter had always been confident. Anxious when he was normally unusually cool. But now, _now,_ the man was positively jumping out of his skin. Damien had picked up on it in the hallway in the Keep, when Gerald had been so uncomfortable to be wedged against the wall. Damien had attributed it to coincidence, but the Hunter's reaction on the horse had suggested otherwise. It'd been instinctual to grab Gerald's hips, the man was falling head first off the horse, what else what he supposed to do; but as soon as his fingers were curling into the soft dip of flesh and muscle he'd known he'd pushed the sexual tension too far. Gerald had flown from off the horse, nearly tripping over himself to get some space. Damien had been all but convinced, at that point. Just so, Gerald had gone on to pass his test with flying colors: jumping away from him when he'd dismounted, staring as he stretched, _shivering_ when he'd come up behind him to whisper in his ear and slide his hand over his shoulder…there was no longer a doubt in his mind, then.

Damien had always been a more than perceptive lover. He'd spent a long time learning to decipher the subtle signs of a woman's desire, reading a man was as easy as _pie_.

Perhaps it was the nine hundred years of chasing women through the Forest only to seduce them to death had lead to a massive case of pent-up passive aggressive lust. Gerald's problem may be no more than the world's worst case of sexual deprivation- a hilarious thought, if he could say so. But, Damien sensed something that ran a little deeper. If it were so simple as physical need plaguing the man, Damien had no doubt Gerald would be no less than his usual unattached self. No, his lust was definitely connected specifically to _him, _and Damien would be lying if that thought wasn't exciting. When Gerald had already changed his views on so many pivotal points in his life, why stop at his sexuality? It did not surprise him in the least. In fact, now that he considered it, Damien hoped that it were the _truth_.

Pausing in his construction of a fire pit, Damien considered following Gerald. Could it really hurt to push his luck? It'd be so easy to come upon the man naked in a stream somewhere and really pull the issue out into the open. Letting the image play out in his head, Damien felt a flush forming under the collar of his shirt. As tempting as the idea was, Damien just wasn't that kind of guy- if Gerald wasn't ready to say anything about his attraction, he would respect his privacy.

Standing up and brushing his hands on his pants, satisfied with the circle of rocks and the small teepee of burning twigs, Damien found a pot and set some water and dried soup mix to heat. There was cheese and bread, but the night was chilly, and Gerald would be wet, and a hot meal would taste so _vulking_ good. Which reminded him that the horse was probably hungry too and he should get the beast unloaded so it could graze at it's leisure. Unbuckling the bags from where they hung from the saddle, Damien realized that Gerald had forgotten his change of clothes behind in the second bag, which he imagined he hadn't even made it into. _I thought i had just decided I _wasn't_ going to follow him. _Sighing Damien dropped the bags next to the fire and fingered the soft silk of the clothes in his hand. Narilka had packed like, well, the wonderful woman she was- including clothes that actually suited the two of them. The pants and cotton shirt she'd left him were large and simple, while the silken elegance of the garments obviously meant for Gerald may have come form the man's own dresser for all he knew. Either way, Damien didn't think the other man would care to get back into filthy clothes after finally getting clean, so he didn't have much of a choice.

Abandoning the fire, Damien made his way into the Forest towards where he'd seen Gerald disappear. In the not too far distance he could hear the white noise of what sounded like a decent sized stream, and even in Domina's fading light he could make out a break in the trees ahead. Steps careful, Damien picked his way throughout the branches around him, his thoughts dwelling on the numerous times this place had nearly murdered him and marveling over how just the presence of Gerald turned it absolutely harmless- or so he hoped.

"Gerald?" Damien called out into the darkness, not wanting to come upon the Hunter unexpectedly and embarrass him. When he didn't hear any response he edged his way out of the trees, opening his mouth to call out again, only to be frozen in place as his eyes fell upon a naked Gerald who was seated with his legs crossed at the edge of the stream, his hands resting on his knees and his head bowed. "Gerald?" Damien hesitated to approach the other man, but then he saw one graceful arm wave him over and Damien 'humphed' to himself- it would figure that _modesty_ wouldn't really be an issue for the Hunter. It was too dark for Damien to get a good look at the man because with the approach of True Night the shadows were just to deep to see into, but either way, Damien dropped the silk into Gerald's upraised hand and watched as the man examined the fabric curiously.

"These are _mine_," his words almost sounded delighted, and Damien could only roll his eyes. Gerald did have a rather peculiar fashion sense of fashion- no matter what he wore there was always an adapted Revivalist flare, and Damien knew it was entirely intentional.

"Don't thank me, it was that woman whose life you spared. Narilka, her name was. She was there at the stables with a horse and supplies," his motions apprehensive, Damien lowered himself to the ground beside Gerald. He made sure he wasn't too close, but he could feel the Hunter watching him from the corner of his eye, hyper focused on his every move. "I can't imagine there're too many women who fit into that category."

Gerald snorted at him, tossing his hair over his shoulder, "Seems as though I made the right choice keeping her around, the woman knows how to pack. Now if only a certain someone else could learn to do the same."

"It's not my fault that every time I put supplies together we managed to loose the important stuff," Damien muttered, remembering his horse, and all his other crap that was now scattered across the planet. "One day once we're dead and famous people will figure out those things were connected to you and you'll make some person a fortune."

"Unlikely, their innate value would make them hardly worth saving even if discovered, they'd never survive long enough to become valuable."

"Gerald, I was being sarcastic," Damien suppressed a smile, instead leaning towards the other man so he could nudge him with his shoulder- wondering if as fleeting a touch as that would have an effect.

The Hunter showed no signs of unease or discomfort, instead he turned to offer the cake of soap to him, "Your sense of humor is appalling, along with your sense of smell, if you can sit there in that cloud of your own filth and make jokes."

Damien gaped like a fish, "You weren't all that fresh before, either!"

"Sarcasm, priest- I thought you knew all about it," Gerald had that stupid half-smile again, thought his hand still holding the soap out to him.

"It wasn't very funny," Damien muttered as he grabbed the ball of soap out of Gerald's grip and hauled himself up off the ground. He knew he smelled pretty bad, but it still seemed like a pretty low blow.

"It was funny, I've had nine hundred years to practice the fine art of sarcasm, you've had…?" trailing off, Gerald shrugged at him, leaning forward and bracing his arms on his knees, his eyes settled on Damien, watching- _waiting_, even.

Standing there with the soap in his hand and Gerald's eyes raking over his body, Damien realized he'd been caught in his own trap. Where before he was concerned about the Hunter's privacy enough to not put them in an awkward situation, Gerald had no such qualms about embarrassing him and had totally reversed their positions. Now it was he who was going to be bathing in front of the other man, and for a moment Damien was so furious over how the Hunter had yet again gotten one up on him that he almost flung the cake of soap at Gerald's face. Instead he broke out in a deep rumbling belly laugh that boomed in the quiet Forest. Gerald leaned back in surprise, not realizing what was so vulking funny, and Damien did nothing to explain; he just pulled his shirt from over his head and tossed it to the ground, his boots and pants following. _He_ didn't have any problem being naked in front of the Hunter, either. So in all his glory Damien waded into the shallow stream and proceeded to clean every inch of his body, from behind his ears right down to his toes, scrubbing at his now shaggy hair and generally making a giant splashing mess.

Gerald sat on the bank the entire time, his chin propped up on his fists, his eyes never leaving Damien's body.

He had to face away from the Hunter, not out of modesty's sake, but to hide the smile plastered across his face. If Gerald were comfortable enough to boldly watch him bath, Damien had to assume that he was coming to terms with his attraction. The man wouldn't put them in such a situation unless he _wanted_ to watch. And Damien was happy to put on a show- after all, he had left his clean clothes back at camp and that meant the Hunter was going to get stuck taking a nice stroll through the Forest with a naked companion.

"Vryce, catch."

Damien turned around just in time to fumble with the something that Gerald had tossed at him, realizing that it was the shaving kit and wondering what had compelled the other man to bring it with him, unless he really had been planning this all along. _Are you vulking kidding me? _He really hadn't stood a chance, then. "Are you hinting at something? I thought the rugged look suited me." Damien scratched at his chin, noticing that his stubble was beginning to resemble something closer to a beard. The Hunter was probably right, he needed at least a trim.

"I thought, given the option, you preferred no facial hair- not that it really bothers me," Gerald's tone of voice was impossible to decipher, but Damien happily complied. If Gerald had gone so far as to pick up on his shaving habits he knew the man had been watching him for a lot longer than the past few days. And if the man liked facial hair he'd happily keep some of it around for him. Clicking the retractable blade into place, Damien trimmed his beard into something more like overgrown stubble- no way was he going to do any more without a mirror and some light.

Finally satisfied with his state of cleanliness, Damien waded back to shore and stepped out on the bank beside Gerald. In the time it had taken him to rid himself of his beard Gerald had dressed. He now sat at the edge of the bank fully clothed in dark tailored silk. The blanket Gerald had brought with him to serve as a towel sat idly beside him, so Damien grabbed it and gave himself a quick pat-down, throwing it over his shoulders while turning to offer a hand to Gerald. He stood there, fully naked directly in front of the Hunter, waiting expectantly.

Two could play at this game.

The Hunter considered the gesture for a moment, before reaching up to accept his hand and be hauled up to his feet. Damien made sure to use just a little more strength than was necessary, pulling Gerald towards him as he stood, grinning as the man stumbled into his chest. By the look on Gerald's face and the gasp he heard it would have been too cruel for Damien to push him any further, so he released his grip and stepped away towards the Forest. "I put some soup on the fire to cook, it should be ready by now," Damien sauntered in front of Gerald, giving a man a good view of his backside and throwing a _look_ over his shoulder that was absolutely _lecherous._

Damien headed back to camp, the Hunter at his heels_. _

Gerald was sitting in front of a warm fire, full of food, and best of all _clean. _It had been weeks since he'd felt to good. Marching to one's death for what felt like forever was exhausting, and the little respite of rest the evening had offered him was much welcome and needed. It had been a long time since he'd spent a night out in the Forest. The comfort was sure to be lost on his companion, the Forest certainly did not provide the most welcoming visage, but Gerald had always been able to find beauty in it's twisted decrepit branches. The fungus and lichens and gnarled stretches of vines were all working in a perfect harmony he had spent centuries fine tuning- and that in and of itself Gerald found beautiful. Even as True Night cast their wraith-like silhouettes against an equally black sky, leaving nothing but the firelight and fae to reflect off their twisted forms, Gerald appreciated the balance of it all. He would be sad to leave it behind.

"What do you see, when you look at this Forest?" Gerald glanced beside him to wear Damien sat, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

The priest looked to be considering his question, dark eyes raking over the trees around him, "I see monster faces and gaping jaws of death, bizarre funguses that would probably spit poison at me if I got too close, and worms that would happily eat me alive if not for you."

"Besides the obvious, Vryce- attempt to comprehend the abstract," Gerald leaned back into the tree behind him, awaiting the other man's response with a small amount of curiosity.

Damien let out a sigh before falling silent, his eyes sweeping over the Forest again, tracing the tree line before falling to rest on Gerald, "I see something that is dangerous and powerful. Something that is not entirely understood, and which I used to hate and fear, but I've come to find is not the evil I originally believed it to be."

Gerald was silent, considering the priest's response in his head. He knew full well Damien had described him just as much as the Forest- though Gerald did suppose that he and his Forest were interchangeable. After all, the Forest was Gerald's physical manifestation of how he had lived his life as the Hunter, he had designed it that way. In the likeness of their nature they were forever linked, even at such great distances as another continent- maybe even across the stars.

"What would happen, if it were left to grow unchecked?" Damien's question was genuine, and Gerald mulled over his answer before responding to the man.

"It should not spread. It's designed to be a perfectly functional self-contained ecosystem. Any growth would be limited to rebuilding what has died, I imagine it could still be dangerous, but with the changing of the fae only time will tell. It could be that it is entirely harmless to humans, after all it has not attacked us and for all intents and purposes, I am no longer it's master," it was the best Gerald could speculate, but he imagined it would do just fine without anyone's interference, otherwise what sort of accomplishment would building it have been, if it weren't even advanced enough to survive on it's own?

"It's a shame, then."

Damien's words gave him pause. _A shame? _"What is a shame?"

The priest looked at him, his face suddenly carefully closed, "I thought you had helped orchestrate all of this." the _look_ on Damien's face was making Gerald feel uneasy.

"What in the world are you talking about, Vryce?"

"They're still burning the Forest down tomorrow," the words were like tiny arrows flying into his heart. "We have until noon to be gone."

_They're what? _But he had thought- It was impossible- they _couldn't-_

Gerald stood up in a flurry of silk, a painful panic tightening his chest. He had know that Calesta's intent had been to attack his home in order to draw him out, to hope that the threat on his source of power would bring him to it's defense. In the wake of the events with the unnamed, and the destruction of the Iezu, he hadn't really had the moment to give much thought to it's fate. After all, he was supposed to be dead, what would it matter if he were not even around to see how it could flourish. And if he had somehow survived, he hadn't expected the fae to become inaccessible, he always assumed he'd have the capability to defend his home. "They have the Keep and all of my work, they have _me_, what_ more _must they_ have_?" The emotion he felt broke through his voice, turning it ragged.

"The Forest has been as much a symbol for the Hunter's reign as you yourself were, even more so for most people," Damien was slow to rise to his feet, his hands spread in a sad attempt at complacence, "They probably believe it to be dangerous with or without the Hunter behind the scenes- It's been a huge source of fear for for hundreds of years…"

The priest was right, but still Gerald couldn't wrap his head around watching what was one of his life's greatest works be burned to the ground. For nine centuries he had depended on the Forest and the strength it provided him. It was as much his protector as his creation. Wherever on Erna he went the Forest was a constant presence in the back of his mind, the only thing there when he was otherwise alone. Too many times had he depended on it's power, to both save his life as well as give him a grounding connection to his roots in the fae. Gerald's mouth fell open but no words could come forth. He could only look up into Damien's shadowed face and search for some sort of solution, because for the first time he was without one. He was powerless to stop the army. Working was lost to him and with it the last of his threads that connected him to the Hunter. He knew it had to be this way, he knew that it had to happen, but the knowledge _hurt_. Once the Forest was gone, there would be nothing of his former life. All of his work would be _gone. I have given up _everything_._

It was too much, too painful, too poignant-

Gerald couldn't think. He couldn't breath. He was utterly _helpless_ to do _anything._

So he ran.

Deep into the Forest he ran. Black and gray shapes blurred in his peripheral vision, his gaze focused before him, instinct leading him. Dodging twisted branches and gnarled roots was second nature to Gerald. He knew his Forest, he _was _his Forest- had been, for nine hundred years, and running through it was like sailing through a dream realized. Fae rooted his feet to the ground even as bounded in long strides, never stumbling, each step landing perfectly balanced. The fae was no longer able to be Worked as before, but he would never be completely be detached from it, he had spent far longer than any other man knowing fae- but deep in his Forest, running under the cool chill of true night like this, _this_ he would _never_ know again- _ever._

As much as it hurt, Gerald couldn't run forever. His body was still tired, and the small burst of adrenaline that fueled him was fizzling out with each step. Damien was a constant presence behind him, their heightened emotions causing the bond to throb in the back of his mind- _concern_ and that _something _passing through to him. The man would catch up, of that he was certain, but still Gerald ran- and ran- and ran.

When his legs and lungs finally gave out, he stumbled into a clearing, his body collapsing against a large gnarled tree. It was old, the tree, it's bark twisted with growth and regrowth- nothing ever really _dying _in his Forest, just as _he _never had. Gerald buried himself in the deep familiar folds. For as long as he had been alive Gerald had almost always had this Forest. Even during all of his travels through the Rahklands and then through the eastern continent, it's presence was a constant in the back of his mind. A comfort when there was no other, the strength he drew on during the worst of times- when he was trapped in that volcanic pit of fire, at that camp of children, even when his God rejected him, and at the top of that spire with the rising sun…

It's loss was…_unimaginable._

Fingertips clutched at the crevices of twisted bark, sinking into them just as Gerald sank against the tree, his seizing breathless chest hiding the sobs that he fought. He could feel Damien watching him from the edge of the clearing, could feel he man's eyes drilling into him, could feel the surge of his emotion across the space separating them, didn't want to think about what the other man felt coming from _him. _

But he knew when Damien approached, the crunch of his boots on the Forest floor resonating through Gerald as clearly as if he were each crushed blade.

"Gerald…" his name was soft on the wind, the priests voice low and pained. The Hunter pressed more tightly against the tree, feeling the priest directly behind him, the heat of his body washing him in both sensation and emotion, and suddenly something dawned on Gerald: that _Damien_ had been there too- in each of those moments when he had turned to the Forest for his strength, Damien had _come_ for him, he had not abandoned him, had never given up on him… _Damn you, Vryce._

The sensation of a hand on his shoulder pulled a shiver from Gerald, but he had no choice but to turn as Damien drew him around to face him. Gerald couldn't hardly look at the other man, keeping his face turned away in an attempt to hide the grimace of despair he knew twisted his features. The similarity to a night so long ago, in that other forest, on the other side of the world, when Damien was there wanting so badly to offer him some comfort even while he was _unable_ to was not lost on Gerald. Everything was so similar except for one tiny detail, but the one that made all the difference...

Gerald didn't even try to resist as he was pulled into Damien's arms. The priest's hug was warm and secure and the tree firm against the curve of his back, Gerald's body effectively cradled from all sides, surrounded and protected by flesh and Forest. He broke then, clinging to Damien and letting go of his sadness and anger, shaking and trembling and sinking into the man he had somehow grown so close to- allowing Damien's strength to take over as his body and mind gave out and he submitted to the emotions inside, finding security in the knowledge that when it was all over and the ash had settled that Damien would _still be there_.

The other man held him without a word, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The sounds of the Forest were quiet around him, but the rustle of wind in the leaves of the tree above him helped to hide Gerald's ragged breath- and he imagined what it would feel like to be drawn back into the branches of this ancient arboreal construction he had molded, to be wrapped in it's folds and assimilated into the ecosystem he had created. This whole world functioned on the balance of death and rebirth, perhaps even in ash there was some hope for life, something the may survive and start the system over again. If he truly had created the Forest as a mirror to his own soul, the place wouldn't perish easily, and certainly not without a fight. There was comfort in that thought, and Gerald soon found himself sagging against Damien, tired and spent.

"Feel better?" Gentle fingers were threading through his hair, the careful touch drawing Gerald from his thoughts more than the man's words. The priest was drawing away, giving them enough space to look at one another, and Gerald could do nothing but cling to the man's shirt and avert his eyes. Even as he labored to even his breath, Gerald could feel the acute burn of the other man's presence. The desire the other man's touch enflamed was complicated by both their intimate position as well as Gerald's weakened emotional reserves. He was thoroughly worn out and his crumbled defenses were in sad shape. But the priest was insistent, and his fingers were pushing back his hair, trailing down his temple to the line of his jaw. when gray eyes finally met black, there was no fighting the feelings that he'd been struggling with all day, feelings Gerald never thought he would experience again- that he thought he had sacrificed along with everything else so long ago. When Damien's calloused thumb trailed over his lips Gerald fought the urge to turn into the hand cradling his cheek, instead squeezing his eyes shut as the other man's touch swept through him, his body _singing_.

"Do you know what you've done to me?" even he knew that was a loaded question to ask the priest, because they both knew exactly what had happened, and neither of them had expected or planned it, or even regretted it, Gerald realized.

Damien pulled Gerald against his chest again, wrapping an arm around his waist as the hand at his cheek tangled in his hair, his lips brushing his ear. "If I said I was sorry I would be lying." And then Damien stepped closer, pushing him back, pinning him to the tree even as the Hunter's legs gave out entirely beneath him- holding him up when he would have otherwise fallen. Breath catching in his throat, Gerald came to a decision, he could no longer deny what he so strongly felt. He clutched at the collar of Damien's shirt- using all his strength to twist his fingers into that fabric, to pull himself up while pulling Damien towards him-

And right into the surrender of his lips.

When Gerald pressed his lips against Damien's, their soft flesh a firm demanding pressure wracked with the unsurity of emotion, the priest very nearly came to tears. When had their relationship morphed into this? The changes had been so slow and subtle and Damien was still reeling with the discovery of the emotions he felt for the Hunter. They had existed before Gerald had regained his human body, of that he was sure. What had started out as hatred was now a deep connection that went beyond the realm of lover or friend. He could not imagine feeling this way about _anyone_ in his life- never had he grown _so close_ to another person, nor did he ever believe it was _possible._ Damien needed Gerald in his life as much as he needed a purpose, as much as he needed his _faith._

Threading his finger's into long blonde hair, Damien caught the other's lips in his own and gently directed the kiss. Gerald was frantic beneath him, the tremble of his body betraying his desperation. The fists twisted into his shirt were clinging as if at any moment Gerald expected him to pull away, and his kisses were thirsty and demanding_- _a mixture of teeth and tongue and and warm breath. While Damien was happy to give him what he needed- he wanted to feelit, he wanted to _savor_ it. Using the grip on Gerald's hair to pull his head back, their lips separating as Damien pressed even closer, he abandoned his grip on Gerald's waist to instead cup the Hunter's face in both of his hands as he let his breath tease over parted lips, "Gerald, I'm not going anywhere."

Gerald's pleading moan was almost silent, but Damien was so close he couldn't miss it- his words having their intended effect and giving him the opportunity to completely take over this kiss. It had been over nine centuries since Gerald had been intimate with anyone- it would have been impossible for the other man to have even kissed someone, most certainly not like _this._ Damien could only imagine how overwhelming the sensations must be to a body that had been deprived of physical contact for so long. The knowledge fueled his lust. Knowing that it was _him_ who had the Hunter like this, that in the reversal of roles it was he who had chased him through the Forest before finally catching him in this state, this moment- Damien sighed and sank into that mouth, his tongue sliding over Gerald's in a slow sensual caress- twisting in deep while his hands held the Hunter steady. The feel of Gerald's smooth skin under his fingers mesmerized Damien and he wondered what his short beard must feel like the other, because somehow he _knew_ the Hunter had never kissed another man before. Then a bristly tickle of sensation echoed back at him from the bond, and it was disconcerting, yes, but it brought with it all of the emotion Gerald felt and it compelled Damien pull out of the kiss to _laugh. _His chuckle was a rolling sensual noise birthed from deep within his chest. The shiver it sent through Gerald was immense. Pressing his lips to the other man's ear, Damien let his voice rumbled low and deep, his tongue and teeth just grazing along the edge of cartilage. Gerald shuddered. Damien could only smile as the man in his arms lost a little bit more of his composer, marveling at the effect he had on the Hunter.

But Gerald wasn't a passive lover. Damien's teasing must have crossed some line, because suddenly he found himself pulled into a brutal kiss, the Hunter's body _arching_ into his. The man had abandoned his shirt to instead sink his hands into Damien's hair, and was that- _oh God- _Damien could feel the hard line of Gerald's erection grinding into his hip. His own throbbed in response, the ache growing tenfold as Gerald's lips moved to his neck and teeth _sank_ into the soft flesh over his pulse. The man had _bit_ him- Damien pulled in a gasp, feeling the hot wet press of Gerald's tongue smoothing away at what could very well be _blood_, his mind torn between horror and unbridled lust. And then Gerald's lips made their way up his neck to his ear, teeth nipping at the lobe before the man moaned, "You taste so good, Vryce," his voice calm and seductive, the words perfectly punctuated even in the heat of lust.

Damien growled, his hands flying to grip Gerald's hips as he slammed him back against the tree and forced himself between the Hunter's legs.

"You're a vulking sick bastard," Dropping his lips over Gerald's once more and invaded, exploring everywhere he could reach- no longer worried about holding back. He felt as much as heard the man's moan as he swept inside, finding the smooth skin of his hard palate, tracing the hard ridges of perfect teeth until finally thrusting his tongue as deep into that mouth as he could go. But it wasn't until he pressed forward into Gerald, rolling their hips together so their erections met, that he felt the man submit under him.

He wanted Gerald. He wanted him more than anything else- and if he thought then was the right moment he would have thrown him to the ground and had his every way with him.

As it was, having sex during True Night right right out in the open in the middle of the Forest probably wasn't the smartest idea. Although, Gerald sure was being _insistent_- the Hunter's hips had matched Damien's in a slow grind, and his hands were still buried in dark hair, holding Damien to their kiss with no intention of stopping. Damien drew away just enough to pull in a breath, brushing his lips against Gerald's as he tightened his grip on the man's hips and held them apart. True Night made it impossible for Damien to see the details of Gerald's body beyond silver eyes and pale hair, but he didn't need sight to feel the tension in every limb, straining for contact. "_Damien…" _And oh God, the way he said his name, and the way his hips were still rolling in his hands- Gerald was _begging_ for more.

"We shouldn't," the words were hard to get out, because he very much desired otherwise. Seeing the protest forming in Gerald's eyes, Damien silenced him with another brutal kiss, reaching around with a hand to squeeze the man's ass. "We're not exactly equipped for this." There was no way in hell he was doing anything without a lot of prep and a lot of oil. And if Damien were to be entirely honest with himself, he didn't really want his first time with Gerald to be a lustful romp in the woods. Call him a gentleman, or a romantic, but Damien wanted something a little bit different.

Leaving Gerald in the state he was now, however, was going to be a pretty cruel thing to do.

As fate would have it, or maybe it was God's intervention, the moment Damien opened his mouth to explain as much to Gerald the man froze in his arms, pale eyes widening as they focused on something over his shoulder. Before Damien could react, Gerald was ducking out from under his arms. Damien tried to turn, mind instantly alert to danger, but the Hunter was faster- twisting behind him and shoving him away from the tree. Just in time too, because a black claw cut right through the space where their heads had just been, ripping through bark and sending chunks flying with the force of it's strength. A demon- _now? _Damien reached behind him to grasp at the knife that, out of habit ,he'd stuck in his belt but hid fingers only closed around an empty twisted at Damien's gut then, and he looked to Gerald, who was vulking _charging_ at the thing-

And saw his knife glinting in the man's hand-

"God damn it, Gerald," why was the man always going and being _heroic_. He was still injured and Damien was in much better shape to take down a demon. Whatever lust fueled haze the man had been in was doing something for his fighting ability, though. Not that he was close to unskilled, not at all, but the ferocity with which the Hunter was attacking was almost animalistic. Suddenly Damien was counting his blessings on his decision to not have sex with the man that night- he could only imagine what lovemaking would have been like as he bore witness to the Hunter ripping into the Demon with nothing more than a long knife and his bare hands.

It took less than a minute for the demon to collapse dead in a pool of it's own blood- The Hunter standing over it's body, head bowed and shoulders heaving. Damien meanwhile still lay stunned on the grass, his eyes plastered on Gerald's back, his thoughts in a whirlwind. Even without his ability to work, or his inhuman strength, Gerald was a dangerous and formidable force. The realization was nothing if not comforting. But suddenly he noticed a sway in the man's stance, and then the knife dropped down to embed itself in the grass and Gerald's body was following it down-

For the second time that day, Damien caught Gerald mid-fall. The man collapsed back into his arms, his head dropping onto Damien's shoulder as his legs crumpled under him. Gray eyes were blinking rapidly, Gerald's breath shallow in his chest and in that moment Damien remembered the man's heart. Fighting back the fear he felt blooming, Damien placed a hand on Gerald's chest and focused on the heartbeat under his palm- relieved to find it's pulse fast but still steady. It was then he noticed the blood trickling out from under the silk cuff of Gerald's sleeve and realized the man's wound must have reopened…

Before Damien could address the injury, the man in his arms began _laughing_. The sound was light with just a small hint of hysteria, and Damien gaped as silver eyes glinted up at him, "That felt good." Of _course_ it would feel good- Damien realized. Wasn't that how the majority of the Hunter's sexual trysts ended- with someone dying?

Damien just leveled a _look_ at the Hunter that said it all. His future was not having a very bright outlook. "We should probably head back to camp, I don't think it's safe out here. Can walk, or am I going to have to carry you again?"

Gerald shifted in his arms, testing out his motor functions before admitting "I believe I'll be fine on my own, Vryce."

"Don't worry, I don't doubt that," regardless of Gerald's confidence, Damien helped the man to stand, making sure to grab his knife on the way up. "We should just head to Mordreth tonight. If we get there early enough we can probably catch a boat to Faraday in the morning." Damien glanced up at the sky, trying to decipher how long they had until sunrise but finding it impossible.

"Damien," Gerald's voice was quiet in the night air, his inflection almost apprehensive.

Damien turned to the other man, a question on his tongue, and found himself caught in the Hunter's gaze. Silver eyes looking at him from lowered lashes, and then Gerald's hands reached up to cup Damien's face. Elegant fingers trailed over his cheeks and through the sparse beard, their touch affectionate and possessive all at once, and then Gerald was stepping towards him to press his lips against Damien's in a gentle kiss that was so unlike the one from before.

Before Damien could react, Gerald stepped back, "You're the man with the plan, or however the saying goes." And then the Hunter was heading into the Forest back towards camp, and this time is was Damien who followed close behind.

They had been closer to Mordreth than they realized. It had only taken a few hours to reach the outskirts of the Forest, and by that time the sun had risen with the first rays of morning. They hadn't encountered any more demons or other wraiths since the one they'd fought in the clearing, and Gerald couldn't help but wonder where that lone monster had come from. What they had encountered had given him a small enough scare all on it's own- it seemed as if they weren't the only ones traveling through the Forest that night for he and Damien had almost walked right into the Church soldiers.

Damien had disappeared at that point, heading into the camp for reasons he could only explain as the fae compelling him to go investigate- but not before he insisted that Gerald put the cowled cloak back on and mount their horse and promise him that if he even so much as heard a footstep he'd take off towards Mordreth. Gerald had instead followed the priest, his curiosity peaked, and had borne witness to the Patriarch sealing off the fae from human influence forever. He hadn't really been able to watch, rather he felt the Working rip through him, felt the threads that still bound him to the fae shred away from his very soul to leave him feeling empty and just a little bit cold.

It hadn't taken Damien long to find him. Gerald had been sitting on the horse oblivious, trying his best to find his way back to the fae but finding it utterly impossible. Needless to say Damien had been anything but happy.

What had shocked Gerald the most, though, was that he could still feel the bond active between him and the priest- which meant whatever Working the Patriarch had accomplished did not sever the effect of Workings previously wrought. In a way, Gerald still had access to the fae through the simple presence of the bond. He would not be able to manipulate the currents, but being able to sense the fae even in that small capacity meant more to him than he realized.

Although, it wasn't much help at that moment.

The small merchant boat rocked beneath his feet, lurching lazily in the calm waves of the water. They had just cast off from port as the sun was reaching it's zenith in the sky. Before them, visible even from the shore, rose a plume of acrid black smoke that was only increasing in size and density as each minute passed.

It was his Forest, _burning._

"You OK?" Damien was beside him, never having let him out of his sights ever since they'd reached the town. Not that Gerald was complaining, instead he found himself close against the other man, their shoulders just touching. That small bit of comfort was doing more for him than Gerald would ever admit. Watching his life's work burn away into the open air of Erna's atmosphere was more painful than giving up his name and title and identity. The flames weren't high enough to see, and Gerald imagined that they would be too far away by the time they were large enough to crest the horizon, but maybe it was better that way.

"I'll be alright," his words were soft- soft enough to almost be lost to the waves and the wind, but the hand twining into his told him that Damien had heard.

Gerald had spent too much time alive, watching the passing cycles of human tendency and development, to not realize the depths of what the burning of his Forest meant. With the death of his Forest was truly the death of his past identity. The Hunter was, in every sense of the world, now dead. Even though Gerald stood there on the boat, his body and mind alive with the memories of the past nine hundred years, he was not the same man. He had not felt the same, since leaving Mount Shaitan. Even last night, when those long embedded instincts that drove his hunt had resurfaced, he'd known it had only been one last hurrah. Balancing his newfound human physical body with 900 years of repetitive dependent addiction was overwhelming, he wasn't sure if those aspects of his nature would ever fully fade away, but he knew they were only a distant echo born more out of comfort than necessity. What he had now been stripped down to, without the hunt or his work or any of the physical bonds that connected him to that previous life, was simply a man. Not the man he was before, and not the man he had become as the Hunter- A new and different man with centuries worth of knowledge and insight, but still just a man.

It couldn't have worked any other way. The Hunter and the Prophet were the identities that had shaped Erna for almost a millennium, without either of those two men the human race would not be where it was today. But now closed the era where humanity fought Erna for their right to exist, and with it ended humanity's need of either of those two men. This was the start of a new cycle, the rebirth after the death, the time where maybe he could come to realize the fruits of all his labor. He had been given another chance. Had God, in the end, recognized what really lay buried under the layers of blood and darkness? Damien had always believed in his redemption, and he had been right all along, in the end. Gerald still didn't quiet believe it. In his heart knew it was all Damien, he was the reason, the only reason. In revealing his inaccessibility to him God had demonstrated what Gerald could not have while he remained as he were, but maybe he had never _given up_ on him. Perhaps in convincing Damien of his worth Gerald had convinced God as well, or maybe God had only let him live for the priest's benefit. Or maybe the priest had been sent by God to ease his transition back to mortality, and this had been His plan all along.

He supposed he would never really know.

Gerald shielded his eyes and sighed, watching as the cloud of black smoke disappeared over the horizon. They were moving quickly through the Serpent Straits, the mechanical engine chugging away without a hitch now that human thought could no longer interfere. Already Mordreth and the Forest had been left to the distance. At this rate they would reach Faraday come next nightfall, maybe even earlier if the weather stayed so fair.

And then he and the priest would have some time to figure out what to do, where to go from there. For the first time Gerald found himself with _options_, with _choices_. He was so used to having a purpose, a directive, an objective. Now with his plans dashed and his mortality restored, he was left with just one thing to guide him- Damien Vryce.

Damien had suggested Faraday- and for certain it was a good destination. It was truly necessary for Gerald to disappear and from Faraday they could reach most anywhere, the Rahklands, the Eastern Continent, maybe somewhere entirely new and undiscovered… The _possibilities_ were overwhelming for a man who had become so used to living within a specific set of rules and parameters. Order had always been important to him, and with order came a certain knowledge in regards to _what came next_. But now everything was so different Gerald had no idea what to expect.

Damien, on the other hand, was doing just fine. After all, this was familiar territory. Gerald had heard the man's campfire stories. Damien was a man of action and reaction- he never stopped for long because it wasn't in his nature. There was always some conflict he was confronting, some reason driving him to every edge of the world. _That_ appealed to Gerald, nearly as much as his desire for order and knowledge. Traveling with the priest had become just as much a part of his life as anything. After so long, he could not imagine it any other way. He did not want it any other way.

"Do you think Faraday has had time to rebuild?" Damien's question jolted Gerald out of his thoughts. He had to admit to himself that he hadn't given much thought to the state the port city had been in last time they'd visited. The tsunami had done extensive damage to Faraday's infrastructure. Whether or not the people there had been able to recover over the last few months was anyone's guess.

"I am sure it's still functioning as a port, if that's what you mean. Whether they've been able to repair all of their damage, that I doubt," but Faraday was a rich in people and trade, and whether or not damage still remained there was no denying that the cogs that ran the important parts of the city were still turning. "I have resources invested there, we should be able to book safe passage to wherever we choose without issue."

Damien raised an eyebrow, "Resources? You mean _money."_

"What else would I mean? Do you think I've squandered my fortune after having centuries to invest it?" Gerald had started out with a fortune, now, well- now he didn't even know exactly how much money he had stashed away across Erna. Certainly more than either he nor Damien could spend in their remaining lifetimes, even if they tried.

"Well," Damien appeared to be at a loss for words, "I can't say it surprises me- you go through silk like it's toilet paper."

Gerald sniffed and threw a glance over his shoulder, giving one last look at to fading black cloud of ash that was his Forest, "It's not as if we have your savings to depend upon. Or has the church started compensating it's servants with salaries now?"

"Are you calling me poor- because that would not be very fair," Damien crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet apart, staring the Hunter right in the eye, "After all, if it were not for a certain someone I would still be a member of the clergy."

"Just answer the question Vryce."

"Fine. Yes, I'm dirt poor, you're right- happy?" Damien was scowling, the man obviously unhappy with having to confront the truth about his financial situation.

"Not at all, a man of your calibre deserves to be compensated for services rendered," Gerald understood the mechanics of keeping money out of the picture in regards to serving the Church, but it was an unfortunate position to put someone like Damien Vryce into. "Whatever you need Vryce, just say the word, we'll just say I owe you."

"I don't want your money, Gerald," Damien's voice held an edge and his dark eyes had narrowed in their regard of him.

"No, but you need it. And I am used to a certain standard of living that I have no intentions of abandoning," Gerald really hadn't intended to insult the man, but he supposed it was Damien's pride rather than his heart with which he'd struck a cord.

"I would think that a hole in the ground would cost no more than the shovel you'd need to dig it," Damien grinned. "If you're loaded that's fine. You can buy me some new clothes and replace my horse and crossbow, then we'll call us even. We don't even know where we're going to end up, your money could very well be useless."

Gerald had considered that as well, "You may be right. Did you have somewhere in mind…" Because he didn't. His last brilliant plan had landed them at the Keep and nearly dead, and all for naught. He hadn't recovered his texts on the Iezu and now he was just too exhausted over the issue to give it more thought than a passing groan. Maybe Karril would be of some assistance, as soon as he was finished with his impromptu family reunion. Even without his ability to work he was sure the Iezu's curiosity would compel him to search the two of them out.

"We could go to the Rahklands?" Damien suggested, "Ciani's there and she had been researching the Iezu. And Hesseth…I am sure the Rahk would appreciate knowing what happened."

Gerald felt his stomach clench at the mention of Ciani's name, "Ciani? Well, I suppose she may be of some help. Though I can't say it's worth the trip into the Rahklands when the Rahk could very well hold us _responsible_ for Hesseth's demise." And not to discount the fact that Damien and the lady adept had a _history_…

"Gerald- don't tell me- are you_ jealous?" _Damien was laughing at him, "You can't be serious." Gerald could only glare. "You _are_ serious?" More laughter, which was only causing Gerald's scowl to deepen and his shoulders in hunch, his hood dipping to hide his face from the other man.

Damien had either become psychic or the bond had given him an innate ability to read into Gerald's emotions because he was suddenly being pulled across the boat towards the stern. "Gerald," Damien said over his shoulder, a glint in his eye that Gerald was beginning to recognize, "You have _nothing _to be jealous about." And with those words his back hit the quarter deck wall with a dull thump and then Damien's lips were on his and the previous night came crashing down over him like a wave. His body was doing that thing again, were his nerves felt like they were going to burn the patterns of Damien's touch into his very soul. He could not resist, nor did he want to. Instead Gerald moaned into Damien's mouth and slid his hands into soft dark hair, allowing himself to get swept up into the priest's kiss.

"How about this," Damien pulled away to say, his lips brushing Gerald's with his words, "Let's stop worrying about any of it," hands were squeezing their way down his sides, past his waist and towards his hips, "We'll get to Faraday, find ourselves a nice room in a fancy inn, and take that vacation I mentioned." Strong fingers were pushing their way into the dips and curves of his muscles, touching places that Gerald didn't even know he had.

"Yes," he heard himself whisper, his hands tugging Damien back to meet his lips, "That is a very good plan."

Damien peered at himself in the mirror, fingers scratching at his chin as he examined his reflection with a critical eye. He needed another shave, he decided, and probably a hair cut too. How long had it been since he'd been to a barber? Months? He could hardly remember but going by the shaggy length his hair had grown out to it had been a while. He looked better than he had in a while though, that he knew. The starvation he'd felt ever since Shaitan had been tempered by the few large meals they'd received on the ship, his form having already started to fill back in. His new clothes were probably helping too. And his freshly tanned skin.

The weather over two days it took to reach the coast had been beautiful. Damien had spent the entirety of the trip on deck in nothing but a pair of loose shorts, taking a cue from the sailors and working on his tan. Now his skin was back to it's healthy golden flush, and he couldn't deny that by just being consistently back under the warm rays sunlight that his spirits had risen. Traveling at night had done nothing for his skin's naturally warm complexion, so he'd spent most of his time with Gerald enjoying the weather. Though it went unspoken, Damien had not missed how the Hunter had made every excuse to be outside in the daylight, but Damien knew- he could tell just by watching Gerald how much it meant to him. It was in the way he sat motionless on deck, head bowed deep in thought. It was in the way he turned his hand over and over when he thought Damien wasn't watching, obviously marveling at how he didn't burst into flames. Mostly, it was in the way he was up each morning in time to watch the core rise.

When they had finally reached the city, he had been a little surprised at how well it was doing. Faraday was bustling with the excitement of a full and plentiful trade season. Reminder's of it's massive reconstruction were present all across the city. The wall was still not entirely repaired, there were places where jagged broken masts erupted from the fortress like giant spears, and the boardwalk was a makeshift menagerie of hastily put together boards and platforms. Regardless, businesses were in full swing, and the inhabitant's spirits were as high.

Gerald had not been lying when he'd said he'd accumulated a fortune of money. Their first stop had been a local investors where Gerald left with a purse full of coins for each of them. The money, from what Damien could tell, was unmarked golden currency, and the weight of the metal alone would serve to pay for whatever they needed. A single coin had bought him three quality sets of clothes, new boots, an intricate inlayed leather belt, and a beautiful brown cloak, and he'd still gotten most of the coin back in change. Damien considered trying to give his purse back to Gerald, because the last thing he wanted was for the man to think him a charity case…But then he thought _what the vulking hell_ because the Hunter had put him through a lot of shit, and if giving him a purse full of gold made the other man feel better he may as well stop complaining.

The room Gerald had booked, though, was beyond ridiculous. Damien didn't even know places this nice existed for rent- it technically wasn't even a _room. _It was more like a full apartment, with their own private bathing chamber that was built entirely out of polished hardwood and tile, and a domed skylight that let the sunlight filter in and fill the place with a bright golden glow. The sitting room was vast enough to _entertain_ with- not that either of them would be having guests. There were matching red velvet chaise lounges that looked out over a double-door balcony and a thick circular rug that was patterned in the style popular with the people of the eastern continent- causing Damien to wonder if a trade route had somehow been set up in their absence. The bedroom, needless to say, was something directly out of some royal estate. A heavy velvet curtain had been pulled back to expose a bed large enough to sleep a whole family, blankets and pillows hardly in short supply. Windows stretched up from the floor boards to reach towards the extended ceiling, where heavy wooden beams arched and crossed in a pattern reminiscent of the Revival period. The colors were rich and full, reds and dark woods with accents of pearlescent white and together it created a very deep and mysterious atmosphere.

It was very _Gerald._

The gilded mirror Damien was staring into hung on the sitting room wall, a small basin of water with a full bar of alcohol sitting untouched below it. He could see Gerald in the reflection too- the man was stretched out on on one the chaises, his back to Damien, the open balcony doors letting in the sunlight and a cool refreshing breeze from the bay. The light lit his hair in a golden halo, and Damien could tell by the even rise and fall of his shoulders that the man was asleep. A pang went through Damien's heart at the sight. Part of him was tempted to go over and join the main and just nap the whole day away- but he was _starving. _Gerald still wasn't accustomed to eating daily, but Damien was very in tune with the needs of his stomach and right now it was demanding a meal.

"Gerald?" Damien approached the other man, kneeling down next to the chaise and laying a hand on his shoulder, "Are you awake?"

"Hmmm?" was the only response he got before the man peered up at Damien through lids heavy with sleep. He really must have been out.

"I'm starving, are you hungry yet?" the question didn't seem to register with the man, but Gerald's stomach took it upon itself to answer with a loud garbled rumble.

"I suppose I am," Gerald's brows lifted in surprise as he shifted himself to lean back onto his elbows, lifting a hand to push thick waves of gold out of his eyes. His midnight blue silk jacket that was so rich in color it was almost black stretched taunt between his shoulders before tapering into slim a waist and hips- a single leg propped up in the perfect representation of a _lounge_. Damien felt that familiar twist in his stomach that he got when looking at Gerald lately. Some cross between lust and the urge to run a mile- he was beginning to suspect what it really was… And right now, Gerald looked so vulking perfect even while rumpled and sleep-ridden that Damien wondered how one man could be so infuriatingly perfect _all the time_- It was _inhuman_.

"Damien?" a voice cut through his thoughts.

"Huh, did you say something?" if he had, Damien hadn't heard a word of it.

"I _asked_-" and then Gerald was turning, his legs swinging over the the chaise to settle on the floor before him as he leaned forward towards Damien's kneeling form. Damien looked up into grinning silver eyes and felt heat bloom in his chest, "-do you want to eat now?" a slight smile playing across his lips. The man _knew _what he was doing…

Damien swallowed and grabbed Gerald before he did something he regretted, like jump him, and directed them out of their apartments.

The dining room was small and exclusive. Deep brown velvet half-circle booths were set back in individual alcoves that lined the walls. Bright vibrant blue curtains accented the brown, a vase of flowers Damien didn't recognize but were the same shade of blue sat on the entryway table, obviously the centerpiece of the decor. All the while the the windows were wide open to the late afternoon sunshine, lighting the room in a golden brilliance while deepening the shadows round the tables. It made for a very inviting but private dining experience- something that was probably valued in an establishment that was dealing in this scale of proprietor.

Damien was impressed.

Gerald looked bored.

The waitress that sat them was petite and blond and cute, with an edge of personality that suggested she was used to dealing with men like them- well, like _Gerald._ And with how quickly she was at the table Damien suspected she may have been _waiting_ for them. How much money had Gerald paid these people? She took their drink orders with an easy charm and was gone just as quickly as she was there, leaving him and Gerald to the privacy of their booth. A look passed between between the two of them as the girl disappeared. She was too professional to flirt, but it wasn't hard to see the way her eyes lingered on Damien for a moment longer than was necessary. She was probably used to Gerald's type, aristocratic noblemen were a dime a dozen in places like these- Damien, on the other hand, with his rugged dark looks and thick masculine build was probably a rare sight. He was happy to be the center of attention, though, and for emphasis he threw his arms back over his seat and stretched out in his own version of a lounge, inspecting the menu from his vantage point with a smug expression on his face. The menu was short and to the point, listing just the specialties for that day's chef along with a bread and cheese selection. There weren't even prices listed so Damien just went with something that sounded vaguely familiar while Gerald sat staring at his sheet of paper.

"I can't even remember what I like to eat," his words were more surprised than sad, but Damien picked up on the hint of emotion just below their surface.

"Well…do you need help deciding?" Damien had no vulking clue what half the fancy ingredients listed were, but damned if he'd tell Gerald that.

The man only shook his head, his eyes scanning down the menu for the umpteenth time before he glanced up at Damien, "I think…I think I may have been vegetarian." Gray eyes lingered on his, and the _look_ on his face was _priceless._ Gerald looked totally flabbergasted.

Damien burst out laughing. When had it become so easy to be in the man's company? "That would be rather ironic," Damien grinned. "Order something with vegetables them. You can always try some of mine, if you want a taste of meat." Damien didn't catch the implication of his words until after they'd come out of his mouth- Gerald, thankfully, showed no signs of noticing.

The waitress returned with their drinks- just two glasses of ice water, and took their respective orders. When she next returned it was with two plates of food and a bottle of wine that she said was on the house- compliments from the chef and Damien had to wonder how it was that even when you're filthy vulking rich you still got things for free. His food was delicious and flavorful in ways that were unfamiliar yet pleasant, and Damien dug in with a hunger that had been brewing for weeks. Even the food on the boat had been closer to their travel rations- this, on the other hand, was his first actual _meal._ Gerald, was eating by careful measured forkfuls, a look of concentration tightening his features as he chewed eat bite with small precise motions of his jaw. He was obviously enjoying the experience of having taste buds meant for food again.

The wine bottle sat untouched between them.

When the blonde girl visited their table next to take their emptied plates, she left a small menu of after meal sweets behind. This Gerald grabbed before Damien even really had time to wonder about dessert. He was rather full from his meal, and he didn't really want the sugar- Gerald, though, seemed totally engrossed in the paper.

"I wonder how the pie is," he murmured out loud, glancing up at Damien from over the top of the menu. "Do you want anything?"

Damien shook his head, "Just coffee, if they have something as common as that."

Gerald sniffed at him, "Maybe the swill they serve at your taverns is common, but real coffee is an art form."

"I think if enough rich people threw money at something, then anything could be an 'art form'," Damien rolled his eyes.

"You've just never had quality coffee before, then," Gerald turned his attention back to the menu, giving it one last go over before setting it aside.

What did the man think he was, a pauper? He'd ate at fancy establishments before and wined and dined with the rich and powerful- he'd certainly drank a lot of coffee over his years too. And it'd been so long since he'd had coffee he'd probably be impressed by a cup of hot dirty water.

It took only a few minutes for the waitress to return to the table with their dessert. His coffee was served in a small porcelain cup and saucer along with two tiny bowls- one holding some sugar cubes and the other filled with a thick milk. Damien added a drop of milk and a few cubes and gave the coffee a god stir, watching as the black liquid swirled into a rich warm mocha color.

It didn't even come close to tasting like hot dirty water.

The nutty flavor stuck to his tongue like a liqueur, the creamy thickness brewed to the perfect temperature- just hot enough to drink but not enough to burn his mouth, and it warmed him from the inside out. "Vulking hell, you're right, this is the best damned coffee I've ever had," Damien took another sip, waiting for Gerald's snide response…

But Gerald didn't even respond to the opportunity to rub Damien's nose in his admission. The man was totally immersed in a love affair with his _fork._ Damien nearly gaped outright as he watched Gerald carefully wrap his lips around the tip of the utensil and pull the piece of cherry pie into his mouth to play with on his tongue. Rather than the look of concentration that had graced his features earlier, Gerald's eyes has instead fallen closed- his expression blank. His first few bites were like that, slow and deliberate and entirely in check- but then Damien noticed the subtle hints that suggested the man's control was starting to slip. His next bites were a little larger, the man's jaw working to chew on a chunk of crust- his tongue slipping the sweep across a bit of gooey red that caught on his lips. Still his eyes stayed closed with every bite, but Damien noticed the hunger in them each time he went for another forkful. Quickly and methodically Gerald devoured his slice of pie, it was a planned attack, a strategy that he must have been developing for the past nine hundred years by the way he perfectly balanced each bit of crust with an equally complimentary glob of filling. It was over in a matter or minutes. Finally, the fork surrendered to being bathed in the short sweeping strokes of Gerald's tongue- the plate already having been decimated by the soft squeaking silver as it were scraped of every _last crumb_.

And now Damien's mind had totally shifted away from the subject of food and into entirely new and different worlds filled with a naked Gerald and lots of pie.

"Need another slice, Gerald? I didn't realize you had a sweet tooth," Damien didn't even try to hide his grin- nor did Gerald his glare. If only he knew what Damien was _really_ thinking about- he let his grin grow a little darker.

Glaring grey eyes widened at the little change in his gaze, and Gerald pulled in a small gasp even as Damien felt a throb of lust pulse in his stomach. Had the other man felt that too- did their bond provide for something like physical sensation to transfer between them- or was it just a mutual reaction to similar feelings?

Damien was ready to find out.

"Let's get out of here." He grabbed the unopened bottle of wine and stood up from their table, holding a hand out to Gerald even as the man slid gracefully from his seat, ready to follow.

As soon as the thick bedroom door's lock clicked into place Damien turned on Gerald. The other man was standing at the foot of the chaise he'd been napping on earlier. The sun had just begun to set, and it caused the gold light from before to take on a more warm orangey hue- the light stretched in through the wide-open balcony and climbed up the length of Gerald, making him looks almost as if he were on fire. So easily he now stood in the radiance that just less than a week ago would have killed him- so easy he seemed in it's presence. Long pale fingers were tugging at the top button of the high-collared jacket, Gerald's neck stretched in a graceful ark- his eyes, bright and silver and _staring_ at him. Damien felt his blood run hot._You mother vulking- _Gerald _knew_ what he was doing. Only he could manage to look so nonchalant and _come hither_ all at the same time. And the way he was _watching him_, and he _still_ hadn't gotten even a single button freed… It took only an instant for Damien to drop the wine bottle to the floor and cross the room and shove Gerald back onto the chaise.

The man landed with a soft 'oomph', genuine surprise spreading across his sun-brightened face as he looked up at Damien- "What has gotten into you, Vry-"

Damien dropped to the couch, pressing Gerald back into the pillows until he had no where to go, no where to run, his eyes caught in a piercing stare, "Gerald. Shut up."

Gerald's mouth snapped shut, his eyes dark with an unspoken emotion that was in direct odds with his protest. They stared at one another, the moment expanding and filling the space around them until Damien swallowed back the rest of his reservations and pressed his lips against Gerald's.

Something shattered over the bond. Thoughts and feelings and sensations crashing together as they met with a mutual hunger. Damien felt a vindictive pang of justification as the other man's tongue slid along his, hungry and begging for more contact- Gerald was such a vulking _tease_. He wanted this just as much as Damien, but he had no problem acing as if his attraction didn't even exist all while _flaunting_ it. But Damien was determined to break down the man's hold on his control, so he growled against Gerald's lips and sank deeper into his mouth, forcing the man to open up to him even as he was welcomed in. They went slow, each twist of a tongue finding someplace new to touch, some different nerve to strike. His heart was pounding hot blood through his body while the bond hummed with an intensity Damien hadn't felt before- like some sort of high without a drug. Well, he supposed lust was endorphins, and endorphins were normally triggered by _drugs_. And when he really got down to it, describing Gerald as as some dangerous substance didn't seem all that _wrong. _

Damien pulled out of the kiss and raked his eyes over swollen lips and flushed cheeks- the signs of life so unlike the Hunters cold pale skin, so _human_ it was almost unbelievable. Gray eyes opened to catch him staring, and Damien felt himself stiffen as they lingered on his own features. What was the other man thinking? Was he wondering how they had gotten to this point as well? Damien had become accustomed with his physical attraction to Gerald days ago, his acceptance just came so naturally. But this was different from the kiss in the Forest, or the subsequent subtle flirting. They both knew exactly where this was heading, and Damien found himself more comfortable with the whole situation than he had ever expected. Gerald, after all, was a _man._ Damien, in his entire life, had not once _ever_ thought about a man in this way. Women had never left him feeling any need for anything more, he had been lucky enough to know a good number of women who were amazing in both character and in bed. It had always been women, and not out of any sort of repressed homoerotic fantasies either, he had just never met a man who made him feel like Gerald did.

Hell, he'd never met _anyone_ who made him feel the things Gerald did.

"Damien," hands were in his hair, sliding past his temples and then pushing up through the shaggy waves, the other man begging with his eyes since saying the words would have been too much of a surrender. _Gerald… _But they were moving so fast, and he had to be _sure._

"This is OK, right?" he asked, watching Gerald carefully, dark eyes searching gray, his heart constricted as he _hoped…_

Gerald looked away, his face turning towards the setting sun, pale eyes becoming almost translucent in the reflected light, "Have you done this before?" His words were quiet in the suddenly still air, but his question was clear. Had he done _this, _had Damien been with a man before.

"No, I haven't," he reached to touch Gerald's cheek, his fingers light against his skin, and gently he turned his face to look at him. "But I've been with women who've know my body better than I did," he smirked at that, because it was _true_. Damien had been with women who had introduced him to parts of his body that he didn't know existed. "I've got a handle on the general gist of it."

"Very reassuring, priest," Gerald's voice was dry, but his apprehension was clear enough.

Not that Damien was anything but smug that he finally found something that he was a little more experienced with- "Don't worry," _How do I explain this without being crude-_ Damien let his fingers stroke down Gerald's cheek, smiling in a way he hoped conveyed his honesty. "The mechanics are the same, I know what I'm doing, just trust me."

Damien bent forward and caught Gerald's mouth in a slow tender caress. Hoping the other man could read the affection in the pressure of his lips. Gerald pressed back, his own mouth slightly parted, a breathy sigh spilling out. Heat pool in his stomach at the sound- the sound was music to Damien's ears- a small strike to the man's unflappable composer, another admission that this was indeed what he desired. Damien didn't stop in his assault, his tongue sliding back inside Gerald's mouth while his hand groped it's way up a silk-covered stomach and chest, fingers pressing into the dark blue of his jacket until they closed around the very button the man had been picking at.

"Let me help," he murmured against panting lips- the little nub popping open with a flick of his thumb. Gerald stiffened, the hands in his hair twisting their grip tight. Soon, the second and third buttons followed- Damien not stopping until he had exposed a small triangle of pale chest to the sunlight. He leaned back, watching his fingers dip past the fabric, stretching lines across taunt muscles, tracing Gerald's collarbone and finding all the little sensitive places that were drawing on the man's shortened breath. There was no swell of breasts, no heavy flush, just a smooth flat expanse of pale skin over elegantly worked muscles. _Beautiful… _Damien bent down, dropping his lips to that skin and pressing his tongue into the dip where collarbones met before following the ridge of bone with the edge of his teeth.

"_Damien,_" Gerald gasped under him, his hands shaking in their fierce grip on his hair- his neck arching back, exposing the pale column to Damien's exploration. It was an invitation Damien was happy to accept, and he sucked and nibbled his way up the thick artery, pausing at his pulse and enjoying the sounds now falling freely from the other man. Soft gasps and small strangled noises that were almost indistinguishable from his breath hung in the hair and echoed across their bond. Damien answered with a low hum, finally finding the lobe of Gerald's ear with his teeth and then chewing his way around the cartilage_. _The wave of lust that flowed through him was just as much his as it was Gerald's- and suddenly the man was letting out a long ragged _sob. _The sensations must have been too much for Gerald, because the sound broke past his throat the a force that filled Damien with hot heavy heat.

Pressing his mouth against Gerald's ear he answered with his own moan, "Feel good?" as he dropped his pelvis into the cradle of Gerald's hips, their erections pressing hard against one another.

"_Yess_," Gerald's voice was a strangled hiss, his hips lifting up off the couch to meet Damien, rolling against the length of him. The man's control was slipping, evidenced by the strong arms wrapping around his neck and the body undulating against him, desperate for contact. Damien was more than happy to oblige him. Bracing one arm against the back of the chaise, Damien slid his other around Gerald's waist and used the leverage to direct them into a slow steady rhythm. They moved together, the fabric between them hardly a hindrance. The smooth silk of Gerald's pants slid beneath the pressure of Damien's hips, leaving nothing to his imagination. He could feel every ridge of Gerald's erection, the heat pulsed and burned right through to him, his own cock throbbing in response. It felt _amazing_. Just being this close to Gerald, in this way, with the light of the setting sun warming a body that was once so cold- it was almost impossible to believe that any of this was real.

Damien muffled the sound of his moan in Gerald's neck. God, this was too much. Or not enough- Damien's body was demanding more while his mind was completely hung up on the reality of it all.

When cool air hit his chest Damien realized that his shirt was in the process of being shoved down his shoulders. Gerald's hands were frantic on his body, pushing fabric out of the way to reveal sun kissed skin to his exploration. Gray eyes burned up into his, their expression determined and needy and _dangerous- _desire flared once more over the bond. _God_, Damien prayed, _let me survive this man. _And then lips and hands met his exposed skin and Damien could only drop his head to Gerald's shoulder as the sensations burned through him. Fingers were trailing over his exposed shoulders and down his chest and sides while a hot mouth latched onto the same spot on his neck that had been bitten those few nights before- alighting his nerves and causing his breath to quicken. The man's bold touches were like fire- and when those hands grabbed his hips and pulled at them, long legs hooking around his thighs and locking them in a hard grind, Damien nearly came undone.

"Vulking hell, _Gerald-" _he sank into the sensation, nearly overtaken with it, his body screaming- _More- _it said, and then he was pulling the buttons loose from Gerald's jacket as he stripped the dark silk from pale skin, his own hands marking the man's skin with their touch. Gerald gasped beneath him, his back arching up as fingers burned lines down his chest, trailing over nipples and down the flat ridges of his stomach before hooking in the waistband of his pants. "Off, _now,_" his demand was promptly met- the other man helping him to peel the garment in question from slim hips- Damien's own pants following soon after.

When they met next it was skin on skin.

And somehow it was _so much better._ Damien cursed and rocked forward, finally feeling the sensation of their bare cocks sliding together, precum slicking their path. Gerald was gasping below him, moving with a confidence born from desire, whatever apprehension that he felt before gone with the fuel of their lust. And he was making those _noises_ again- those soft almost breathless sobs that were nearly lost to the sound of their breath. Dropping his head Damien caught the other man in another kiss, their lips brushing as he swallowed the sounds falling from the other man's lips. It felt so good it was almost mind numbing- but it was going to get better, and Damien couldn't wait any longer- at this rate, he didn't know how long either of them could even last.

"Gerald," pulling away was hard, as the other man was effectively tangled around him at that point, but the oil was all the way in the bedroom… "I need to get something from my bag."

Understanding dawned over Gerald's eyes, and he slowly released his hold on Damien, allowing him to stand up from the chaise. "No need to be ambiguous, I'm not entirely uninformed on the subject," his words were said with a smirk, gray eyes glittering up at him with a deep dark lust.

He was back from the bedroom in a matter of seconds. The _sight_ that he was met with nearly floored him. Gerald was splayed out on the couch where he left him, pale skin flushed with heat and sun and his head thrown back over red velvet pillows, mouth agape as his hand slowly pumped the erection in his lap.

Damien's brain flatlined before trying to fry the image permanently into his memory. _Oh God._

"This feels so _good_," as if the image weren't enough, Gerald had to go and _describe_ it. Though, Damien did have to wonder what it must feel like to be able to masturbate after nine centuries of celibacy. Probably not as good as having actual sex was going to feel, if he had nothing to say about it.

Gerald was watching him through half-lidded eyes- his gaze wandering all along the contours of his body until stopping to linger at the place below his waist, his fist giving a particularly hard squeeze. _Like what you see?_ Damien gave the man a lecherous grin as he reached down to grab his own erection, fingers easily gliding over the thick length and over the leaking head. His cock was built like the rest of him, big and thick and strong- it's girth filling out soon after the swell of the mushroom tip before tapering slightly down towards the base. Women loved it, Damien could only hope he could make Gerald feel the same way.

Approaching the chaise, hand lazily stroking himself, Damien had to stop Gerald from reaching for him- he had other plans, "No, don't stop." He pressed Gerald back into the couch, encouraging him to continue the attention on his own cock. Gray eyes watched him intently as he settled on the cushions between pale thighs, fingers trailing lightly down the smooth skin. As much as Damien just wanted to bury himself inside the man he wouldn't get anywhere without a lot of preparation and a very relaxed Gerald. Damien knew this could hurt, and the last thing he wanted was to cause the other man any pain, even if a part of him suspected that the other man wouldn't be entirely adverse to it.

His palm replaced his stroking fingers and Damien pushed Gerald's thigh back and to the side, spreading the other man a little further as his eyes looked beyond the man's heavy balls and the smooth stretch of his perineum. Gray eyes had yet to abandon their focus on him- Damien could feel Gerald watching him closely as he took one of the smaller pillows and slid it under the man's hips, giving him a better angle to work from. The little bottle of oil was warm in the grip of his palm, and Damien popped the seal with his thumb.

"Keep stroking yourself," Damien placed a feather light kiss on the soft skin of Gerald's inner thigh, "This'll probably feel a little weird at first, but I'll make sure it doesn't hurt."

"Damien…" Gerald said softly, his spread thighs trembling as Damien's oil slicked fingers dipped beyond his erection and stroked at the puckered flesh of his anus. Damien stroked the sensitive muscle, letting the man get used to being touched down there and watching his face closely, waiting for any adverse reaction. Gerald just closed his eyes and pulled in a shaking breath. The hand on his erection had slowed in it's movement as his attention was pulled to this new sensation, but had not stopped, the flesh still full and swollen- Damien took this as a good sign and pressed a single finger forward…

It slid in easily. The man must have been concentrating on relaxing because Damien hardly met any resistance. Seeing his finger disappear inside Gerald was probably one of the most erotic things he had experienced- ever. Once again the reality of the whole situation hit him- the bond suddenly forefront in his mind as he felt the other man through it. Damien found himself moaning along with Gerald as the feeling hit them both in different ways. Gray eyes were back on him, watching closely, and Damien met their gaze with a small smirk, "Ok?"

Gerald only nodded, the hand on his cock giving another slow stroke. The man seemed to be as a loss for words for once- the bond, though, said more than enough for Damien. _Oh God, vulking priest, good, Damien _- were easily readable in the range of things Damien could decipher over their connection. He drew his finger out all the way, swirling it around the entrance once again, teasing him open with just the tip. Gerald's hips were starting to shift against his finger with each twist of his fist until they reached a slow rocking rhythm. All the while Damien continued his gentle teasing, enjoying watching Gerald ease into the pleasure. The sunlight had taken on a deep orange hue, sunset approaching slowly from the east, the core still strong in the sky, and both had bathed the room in their radiance- picking up the slight sheen of sweat that had broken out over the pale flush of Gerald's skin. Damien pushed the thigh in his hand back a little further and twisted his wrist so his palm faced up, slipping a second finger to join the first in it's slow tease. At the sensation of an additional point of pressure Gerald actually moaned aloud. His hips continued to rock but the rest of the man was locked in anticipation, gray eyes squeezed shut, fist steady.

Damien pressed another kiss to a pale thigh and then slid both fingers in. The fit was tighter this time, but Gerald was so relaxed he took both up to the first knuckle before Damien met any real resistance. "Relax," he murmured even while he slicked a little more oil up to his knuckles and pushed the rest of the way in, Gerald shivering at the sensation. "Still OK?"

"Yes," Gerald's voice was breathless, "But, uhn- It's not enough- _ahh-_" a curl of his fingers cut the other man off, and Damien outright grinned as he watched Gerald's eyes literally roll into the back of his head- he'd finally found it. "-_Vulking hell_-" Gerald tossed his head to the side, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp as Damien uncurled his fingers and just rubbed the tips over the spot deep in his body, working the man. "What _is _that?" his voice was a strangled whisper, but Gerald's eyes were back intent upon him.

"This is your prostate," Damien curled his fingers again, pulling his hand back a little so he dragged them over that same spot. Gerald actually let out a soft sob this time, "Feels good right?"

But Gerald no longer seemed capable of speaking. The brand new sensation of his prostate being stimulated too distracting for any more thought- and Damien had no intentions of easing up, Gerald's reaction was just too good to watch. Rubbing his fingers back and forth, spreading them so they ran along the edge of the spot inside him before curling over it once again, Damien slowly milked the gland. The man's fist had slowed down to an sporadic twist at the base of his cock- Gerald more focused on the fingers inside him, trembling thighs spreading open even further. The oil was good, thin but slick, and Damien could easily feel the texture of the skin under his fingers and the tight rhythmic clenching of the muscles around his knuckles as that passed in and out. He knew it felt amazing, he hadn't quite believed it himself the first time he'd been introduced to the area. It was a sensation utterly unlike anything he had felt before, and he knew a man could orgasm from that alone, without even ejaculating.

Which was kind of the plan.

"Gerald," gray eyes flew open to meet his, locking onto his gaze as Damien shifted up and over him, his fingers never leaving that spot. The bond was screaming white noise at him now, he almost felt drunk off of the sensation, and he knew it to be an echo of what Gerald was feeling. The man was close. "Hold onto this," he pushed Gerald's thigh back towards his shoulder, using his free hand to remove the fist gripped around the base of the man's cock to instead keep his leg in place. That dangerous look was back in Gerald's eyes but he obeyed, not quite so dismayed as Damien's fist took his hand's place on his erection. Instead of stroking him, though, he grabbed the base and pulled up while increasing the pressure of his fingertips on his prostate.

"_Vulk- Damien,"_ Gerald's voice was strangled as Damien held off his ability to come in the way he was familiar with, his hips twisting to relive the pressure in his balls. Damien pressed a knee into a hip to hold the man down, his fingers pausing to swirl around the spot deep inside, using his thumb and free fingers to spread him open even wider. Gerald gasped again, the penis in his hand giving a strong twitch, a small measure of clear fluid leaking out of the tip. Yeah, he was really close.

Bending forward so his lips just brushed Gerald's, Damien skipped past them to instead breath out over the man's ear, "Gerald, I want you to come for me_." _With his words he curled his fingers deep into the spot, rhythmically rubbing back and forth and around while his hand squeezed the base of his erection hard. Orgasm tore through Gerald. The man's hands reached up to grab Damien's shoulders as his back arched and twisted, clear fluid now flowing easily out from his cock to drip down onto his stomach, his balls still heavy with unspent cum. Muscles clenched hard around Damien's fingers, drawing them in and holding them there even as Gerald's body collapsed back into the chaise, shaking and weak.

Damien smiled into the man's hair, bouroghing his face in a nuzzle against him, enjoying the sensations now traveling freely over their bond. _Satisfaction, need,_ _vulking priest _yet again_, _and something Damien didn't name but knew well enough. Gerald's hands had tangled in his hair, holding Damien to him as he drew in sharp gasps, his blood flying through his body with the rate of his pulse. Damien couldn't help but savor the moment while he breathed in the musky scent of sweat and sex.

"You're a bastard," was the first thing Gerald said after coming down, followed by, "How the vulk did you do that." Because Gerald was still swollen hard, his erection unaffected even while the rest of his body sung with orgasm.

Damien pulled away to look at him, his heart clenching as his eyes took in the flushed cheeks and beads of sweat along a heaving living chest, "I had a good teacher, a long time ago," and that was the truth, he'd remembered the first time he'd been told he could have multiple orgasms in this way, and he'd hardly believed it when it happened. "Did you like it?"

Gerald just stared at him, incredulous, "You're really going to make me answer that?"

Damien laughed, "Well it's not over yet," Dark eyes gleamed as Damien reached down to grab Gerald's erection, giving it a slow pump, the clear fluid slicking his palm. "I'd even say it gets better."

Gerald's only answer was a shiver.

Damien Vryce was a vulking bastard, on so many different levels and so many different ways Gerald couldn't even name them. _How_ had the man done that, he hadn't even thought it was _possible_. The priest had just ripped the most intense orgasm right out of him without hardly any effort, and now he was laughing at him and telling him it got _better? Mother vulking bastard. _Amazing just wasn't in his vocabulary at the moment.

His sensitivity to the man's touch had crumbled into a continuous inability to be without it. All the points of contact he shared with the man he latched onto with a clarity born of desire their fae driven connection. Currently, the priest sat between his legs, his hand idly playing with his penis, a hungry look darkening his eyes. Gerald shivered again and tried to calm his racing heart with a deep breath. It was difficult, he was still intensely aroused, and his cock was throbbing with unspent release and was sending lightning through his belly- the rest of his body, however, was relaxed in orgasm. Looking directly at Damien like that just reminded him of what _'better' _entailed- and he found himself anticipating it whereas before he had felt a little apprehensive towards the act. Damien had been right- he definitely knew what he was doing. Gerald now found it impossible not to trust the other man's judgement.

The bond was entirely alive in his mind, now, too. Before he'd been overwhelmed by the sensations to really notice it, but now he could feel the other man's desire as readily as his own. _Excitement, lust, _and a giddy sort of happiness overwhelmed their connection and fueled the fire in his belly along with the hand working him, and Gerald heard himself moaning. _God, help me._ Damien Vryce was going to be the end of him, thank God he had healed his heart because otherwise he would have probably expired already. Looking at Damien was driving his desire into the far reaches of it's capacity, as once again Gerald was struck with the utter masculinity of the man. Deeply tanned skin looked even warmer in the light of the setting sun. His broad chest was dusted with course dark hair that spread down to his belly before growing thicker beyond until it created a nest from which a rather thick erection grew. He literally was the penultimate model for the male anatomy. Gerald's loins twisted as he tried to imagine what it would feel like to have him inside.

Without thought, Gerald found himself sitting up and reaching forward for Damien, his pale fingers even whiter against his deeply colored erection. A sharp breath brought his gaze up to find Damien staring down at his hand, a look of concentration twisting his features. _A bit attention deprived? _Gerald swept his thumb over the swollen head, smoothing a drop of precum over the velvety flesh, watching as Damien's eyes fluttered shut and his mouth opened in pleasure. "Tell me what to do," because there was no hiding that Damien was the more experienced one, but Gerald was not happy to lie back passively and let the other man do all the work, "I want you to feel as I do."

The priest moaned at his words, "You have no idea how good it feels just to have you like this," and then strong arms were around him and suddenly their places were switched- Damien moved them so he now leaned against the back of the chaise with Gerald seated in his lap, straddling thick thighs. Strong hands were stroking up his sides, fingers tensing along the muscles in his shoulders and back as hips ground up into him. The position caused the length of Damien's erection to stretch up along his backside and gently prod between the crevice of flesh. The sensation drove Gerald's breath faster. His body was demanding _more. _Settling his hands on broad strong shoulders, Gerald leaned forward to catch Damien in a kiss.

Their tongues touched the instant their lips came together. _Yes, God, Gerald- _read over the bond and Gerald grinned wolfishly. It was good to know he had such an affect on the Priest. Gerald abandoned his grip on Damien's shoulders to instead sink his fingers into thick hair. He was beginning to love it this length, the soft textures were a complete contrast to the bristled stubble of facial hair brushing his chin and cheeks. Stroking thumbs across rough cheeks, Gerald held Damien steady as he leaned over him and sank into his mouth, finally using the leverage of his height to overtake the kiss. Still he moved against the length behind him, his legs spreading further as he shifted forward and back along it's girth. Damien's hips were rocking in time.

"I don't think I can wait much longer-" Damien nearly moaned. A pang of lust shot through him at the words, one Gerald knew to be his own because the utter need in Damien's voice was striking a nerve inside him. It spread like fire through his nerves when a thick fingered hand slipped over his hip to grab at the soft flesh of his cheek and expose him to Damien's erection. The blunt tip just brushed against him, but Gerald shivered at the sensation. The was really happening. Gerald hadn't noticed his body seizing up until the moment questing figures once again brushed his anus and he became aware of his body. "Relax, Gerald," Damien rasped from below, and he found his advice easy to heed as the fingers spread warm oil over him- remembering his orgasm and how good that had felt. He trusted the priest, that was beyond any doubt.

The fingers removed themselves and were once again replaced by the tip of Damien's erection. _Damien- _His mind was roiling even as he focused on keeping his body relaxed. The man's hands were on him, spreading him open even as they directed his hips backwards onto the hard length. It was bigger than he expected. Gerald gasped as the tip pushed at him, spreading him a fraction open. "Ohhh God" he couldn't keep from moaning, the other man's mouth breathing shallowly below him. His hands were still gripping Damien's face and he felt his fingers digging in the the strength of his body's tension. If there was any pain the man hardly noticed- all of his attention was focused on the task at hand. Another push of his hips and Gerald felt the tapered tip slip inside, his body clenching at the ridge, "-Damien." this time he couldn't hide the desperation in his cry.

"Vulk, hold still," Damien's hands held him steady even as Gerald felt his body seize in pleasure. _God_ he was _thick. _More oil was being slicked along his entrance and spreading down the cock he sat partially impaled on. That thought nearly made his brain suffer from an aneurism even as his erection throbbed with a twitch of heat. But then the hands were back and he was being pushed down again and the whole length was _sliding in_- _Damien, God- Damien- _Gerald wanted to scream. It was so much- so close to too much- but so intensely overwhelming that his brain couldn't even process any possible pain. And then he was beyond the tightest pressure and his body was releasing and he felt himself slide back easily to the hilt- the swollen girth pushing right over and past his prostate. He did scream then.

"_Ahhh-hhaa- Damien-" _Gerald's voice cut through the silence of held breath, and then lips were on his, swallowing his scream even as strong hands held them together.

"_Vulk, yes-_" Damien moaned into his mouth, his hips rocking ever so slightly deeper in a rhythmic pulse. Easing him into the sensation. He couldn't think, he could hardly move- the feeling of being stretched full had taken over all of his senses, and the bond was such a loud torrent that he couldn't even read anything from it. But then Damien rolled his hips so the cock inside him shifted in a little further- Gerald cried out again, his body twisting onto roll and Damien was pulling out a little further before sliding back in even deeper, somehow even when Gerald though he'd taken it all the man could still find more to fit in. It felt _so good._

Damien pulled out so the thick girth of his cock stretched him wide and then he was _thrusting_ deep inside and right into _that spot_. This time Gerald's mouth opened in a silent scream, his eyes screwing shut as his fingers sank into the soft flesh of Damien's back, nails biting in. "Vulking hell, _Gerald-"_ and then a short series of shallow thrusts followed- all of them hitting that very same spot inside him and sending him drowning in sensation. He sobbed into the priest's hair.

"Damien-" he felt as if his body was spiraling without an anchor out into a tidal wave of sensation.

"Hold onto me," his voice was a demanding rasp, but still Gerald wrapped his arms around the man's shoulders and buried his face in soft dark hair. An arm slid around his waist and then he was being tipped backwards onto pillows. Damien moved to lean down over him, blocking out the sunlight and bathing him in darkness and heat and heady lust… Gerald laid there and shook, dark eyes catching hold of his, their gaze burning right into him even as the next thrust landed even deeper inside him than before- Damien's weight pushing his hips up and back towards his shoulders in an obscene angle. Gerald threw his head back and and sobbed as fire raced along his nerves and over the bond. _Yes, yes, yes- _his mind was screaming. Gerald had never felt anything like this, when the priest had said it got better he had never imagined this. Having Damien inside him was the most fulfilling sensation he'd ever known- he'd never felt such pure bliss before- ever. Not in all his nine centuries had _anything_ ever felt like _this. _

Hands were stroking his cheeks, lips following their light touches with soft kisses. He knew it was because of this man, it was all because it was _Damien_ and he shouldn't be surprise because it had always _been_ the vulking priest. "_Damien-"_ Gerald moaned as the cock inside him rocked forward into him again and again, finally settling into a slow steady rhythm against that spot as Damien's lips pressed hard against his own- his kiss possessive and needy all at once.

"You feel so good," Damien half moaned, half growled against his mouth, the rumble in his voice sending a tremble through Gerald.

"Yes, God _yes-" _Gerald couldn't even care about his dignity anymore, he wouldn't beg, but he had no problem letting the man know how good this was for him, "-more, _there- yes-" _he gripped the priest's shoulders tightly, his hips lifted up to meet him at each annex- a small grind punctuating each thrust. He was lost, he was no longer aware of anything but the places where their bodies met- the cock buried inside him, the hands holding his face, the lips on his forehead. Gerald slowly started to unravel under the priest. The sensation of Damien's lust coming over from the bond paired with his own was boiling away at his sense of control, and he clung to the priest like a life preserver. He couldn't last that much longer, surely his heart would explode or his mind would black out- but still Damien pounded into him, taking him to the edge and then finding some new plateau of pleasure even when Gerald believe he was at his last.

And then Damien leaned back, his hands shifting to hook behind his knees and push them back and wide- his hips snapping forward directly into his prostate and _grinding right in_. Gerald screamed again, his body twisting as his legs shook. Damien stayed there, rubbing his prostate with the girth of his heavy cock, pulling sounds out of Gerald that were more sobs than screams. "Vulk, yes- Gerald, that's it-" Damien rolled his hips in a wide circle, stretching Gerald open even more before grinding back into him, his thrusts now only small rolls of his hips- viciously milking him for all he was worth.

And then he abandoned one of his legs to grip his _cock _and with a small twist of his fist he had Gerald lost in the throes of sensation.

"Damien- i'm going to- _I can't-"_ Dark hair helped obscure his view even as wetness gathered on his eyelashes- Damien was leaning back over him, his fist slowly pumping his cock while his hips drove into him, shallow and hard and _perfect- _

Lips pressed against his, "Yes, _God _Gerald-" and then the priest's hips snapped forward, spreading his thighs wide as they rolled against that spot in a hard grind. Damien lost himself inside Gerald as he filled him with cock and come in a wet pulsing heat. Gerald came then- soaring through a vision of brilliant stars and space in a blazing white light of dual sensation- Damien's orgasm echoing over the bond triggering his own to tear through him. _Damien- _He screamed the priests name as thick white fluid spurted from his erection, his hips grinding against the cock that was pulsing inside him, both of their orgasms feeding off the other- both of their bodies clinging to one another.

When they collapsed back on the chaise it was in a tangle of sweaty exhausted limbs and a feint press of a kiss. Damien drew out of him carefully, Gerald's body shivering as his nerves seized in over stimulation, before he grabbed Gerald and rolled them over. He lay half on top of the priest, one arm caught under his weight while the other's hand was still buried in dark hair. His face was pressed into a sweat slick neck and an arm around his waist kept him there, it's grip still holding him tight.

"That was amazing," Damien murmured into his temple, squeezing Gerald to him as his hand stroked down his back- his touch light and unconscious.

Gerald couldn't put any words together, so he hummed in agreement. His body's awareness was fading fast into a delirious calm. He could feel his eyes drooping shut even as he wondered if having his face pressed into Damien's neck was slowly suffocating him. His brain answered back '_who cares'_ and then decided to shut off, leaving him in a sore blissful darkness. Gerald welcomed the respite.

He didn't dream, but he didn't need to as he found himself once again instead drawn into Damien's, the bond strong enough still to provide the lucid link for his unconscious self to watch the man's dreams play out on their own like a movie. Even without him able to work, Gerald found he had just as much influence over the man's subconscious as he had before, mesmerized as the scattered visions and images flowed through him in a menagerie of memories and fantasy- all of them centered around him.

Some time went by before he awoke. By the time his eyes opened the sun had set entirely and the core hung low above the horizon. Even then, he laid in the priest's arms, for once not caring about the mess that was surely all over him- or at least, not caring enough to wake the other man to take care of it. Instead he laid his head on the broad chest, listening to the heart beat beneath his ear and riding the gentle waves of his breath. Gerald had never felt more sated, more fulfilled, in his entire life. How the priest had brought him to this point amazed him. Surely, this was the work of some greater power, things like this weren't forged by chance, they were wrought by fate and intention. Gerald had to wonder if that during his nine centuries of aloneness he had unconsciously worked the fae to bring this man to him. Without the currents to ask he would never know, but Gerald found himself satisfied that with that sacrifice he had gained something much greater than the fae.

"_Thank you,"_ he whispered into the approaching night air, a small smile spreading across his face as he watched the core lower through the darkening sky.

"Mmmm, anytime-" a voice rumbled into his ear, followed by a long drawn out yawn. He had not realized Damien had awoken.

"I was not talking to you, priest," because he hadn't been- even though it wouldn't take many guesses to for the the man to figure out who he had meant it for.

Damien only humphed knowingly in response, a smile spreading across his face even as his eyes remained closed.

They laid like that until the core set and night filled the sky with it's darkness. It was then that Damien got up from the chaise to close the wide open balcony doors and retrieve some towels from the bathroom. The priest silently cleaned up the mess they had made- including the stuff that had dried into a sticky mess across Gerald's stomach and chest. The man derived an inordinate amount of pleasure in seeing him disheveled with sex- his humor was obvious over the bond- and Gerald fumed back at him while silently enjoying the attention. He wasn't as clean as if he had done it himself, but he supposed he could deal with that until he ran a hot bath. By the soreness in his muscles he was thinking he'd need a good long soak and by the smell of the priest he definitely needed one too. There was no way he was getting into those fine sheets until they were both thoroughly cleaned.

"I want to try that bath-" he caught Damien by a hip, pulling the man forward into him as he dipped his nose into his hair and breathed in- his body still craving physical contact. His fingers curled around the towel hanging from Damien's fingertips, stealing it to wrap instead around his waist as he left the man to follow him into the bathroom.

The tub was so huge it was almost a small pool, easily large enough for both of them and then some. It was a big white porcelain thing set into a raised wooden dais and surrounded by a polished brass railing, tiled steps lining the edge of the platform. Gerald reached for the taps and turned them until steaming hot water flowed out of the multiple faucets, watching as the tub filled up quickly with water. God he missed this. When was the last time he had done something as simple as soak in a bath? A hot bath- it was almost unimaginable, he found himself giddy with anticipation.

Before he could ascend the steps though hands were circling his waist from behind, a big thick body pressing into his back, "What's so exciting?"

Gerald faltered, the man was either growing psychic or he was picking up on reading the more subtle hints of the bond. Somehow he didn't find this disturbing in the least- instead Gerald found the connection comforting. "The bath, of course, what else?"

"Oh" was Damien's response, the arms around his waist tightening, and suddenly Gerald could read another trace of desire along with that something else over the bond. "I thought maybe it was something else."

"You must be part machine. I don't know how you have the stamina-" Gerald nearly laughed as he felt a soft heat swelling behind him.

"No, you're just ancient and jealous of my youthful stamina," Damien was nuzzling into the back of his neck, his lips tracing lines of tickling touches over his shoulders.

"Bath, now-" Gerald slipped away but caught the other man's hand in his own, pulling him up the steps in into the now full tub.

The towel around his waist dropped to the floor and then he was descending into the depths of the warm water. It was so hot it almost burned, but it was a sensation he welcomed. To be able to immerse itself in something so hot was unimaginable, and as he settled against the side and stretched his legs out, head dropping back to rest against the wooden platform, he felt himself get pulled into the weak current of moving water. Damien climbed and in sat across from him, even with his own legs extended the thing was so huge they didn't touch one another. Damien's eyes, however, were all over him. Gerald smiled even as he sank into the water with an exaggerated sigh- peace settling over his mind.

"You two are pretty vulking loud."

The voice cut through Gerald's calm like a hot knife. Damien ended up splashing head first into the middle of the tub in his attempt to turn round, but Gerald had a clear view of the form now sitting cross-legged on the brass railing.

"_Karril?"_ Gerald stared at the Iezu- he knew his expression wasn't hiding his shock.

Damien emerged from the water with a shake of his head and a spray of water, rounding on the creature finally, "I thought you were partying at some family reunion." his black hair was plastered to the sides of his face and he pushed his back with a heavy hand and flinging the water away with a flick of his wrist.

"Funny thing about that-" Karril's voice was dry, "Things were going great until you two decided to blow up my aspect. I mean, I knew it was going to happen eventually, but I figured I'd have a little bit more time-" Karril made an exasperated sigh, "But I suppose it was worth it, next time give me more of a heads up though- I missed a good chunk of the beginning."

Damien was gaping at the Iezu, horror written clearly all over his features. Gerald only rolled his eyes.

Lifting his arms to rest back along the edge of the tub, Gerald leveled a stare at his long time friend. If he was appearing now it was because he had something to tell them, Gerald knew the Iezu better than this. "Out with it, Karril- you're interrupting a bath that has been long over due."

The creature's face split into an almost inhuman grin, "As you wish-" he paused, bring a finger to hips lips and tapping, "-there has been a _development." _Karril's eyes glinted as he spoke the word, teasing Gerald with his lack of knowledge and inability to Work a Knowing.

Before Gerald could demand that the Iezu explain itself Damien was shaking his head and lifting his hands into the air, looking in between the two, "No, no, no-"

"Now, Karril- before I loose my patience," Gerald watched closely, keeping a frantic Damien in the corner of his eye while he glared at the demon, unappreciative of his secrecy.

"It's Mother, it seems she's remembered how to _fly,_" Karril's eyes had darkened with pleasure, enjoying the emotions now rolling out of Gerald with an intensity similar to that of desire. The iezu Mothership could _fly? _Did that mean she could reach _space? _Gerald's heart was suddenly thumping out of his chest. He needed to get back to Shaitan _now-_

"EXCUSE ME," Damien's voice suddenly boomed, tearing both Gerald's and the Iezu's attention to the soaking wet man standing between them. "if neither of you noticed, we are on _vacation._ That means, there will be no talk, planning, or even _mention_ of any sort of _adventuring._" The look on his face was furious with determination, but Gerald could read the defeat already over their bond. The Priest knew he had no chance to win this argument.

"We'll leave first thing in the morning," Gerald caught Damien's eyes, his smile sly.

-End-


End file.
